


Artemis Fowl - The Strangest Life

by AtlasTheseus



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: Book - Freeform, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't self-insert, Multi, Series, bit of Violence, bit of angst, implied Root/Vinyaya, new, some language, unofficial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 74,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9586973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlasTheseus/pseuds/AtlasTheseus
Summary: The unofficial ninth book in the Artemis Fowl series - post-reset, human society is settling back down, and an organization called Knighthood is becoming increasingly troublesome. Rumors of another forgotten fairy family are bubbling up. To top things off, Butler discovers he has a son...who is one of the dragons that Knighthood is trying to capture. Also Root and Vinyaya are still alive. Implied Root/Vinyaya. I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t self-insert.





	1. Goblin Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to The Strangest Life! I began writing this fic on October 24 of 2016, and finished it on February 2 of 2017. It began from a dream I had, in which I was Butler’s son, and after I talked to my absolutely freakin’ BEAUTIFUL best friend, Mary/@artydarling(tumblr), I decided to write it all down into this story. (Seriously, they convinced me to do it by chanting “FIC FIC FIC” into the chatbox.) I’ve done my best to make this work as a legit novel in the series, mostly by trying to emulate Colfer’s style. And I have a soundtrack for it, as well! There’s a song for every chapter. 
> 
> Soundtrack 1: “The Future Is Now” by Starset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names to pronounce:  
> Druvidian = droo-VID-EE-en  
> Kortallen = core-TAHL-en  
> Ezhne = EZH-NEY  
> Pandalayn = pan-duh-LANE

 

__

 

 

* * *

 

_Drew’s house, Missouri, United States of America_

 

It was the strangest day. Nothing out of the ordinary happened for Drew until around 3:30 in the afternoon, as far as anyone else could tell. But part of the abnormalcy was that everything was so _normal_ for that entire morning. Waking up and getting dressed was routine, his music playlist on the bus was routine, and any and all activity throughout the day was so scripted it was like rehearsing for a theatre play. A rare average day, which Drew would have been grateful for, had it not been for what happened next.

His parents were both at work, and his siblings were off visiting friends. He, on the other hand, was in his room, working on the latest and greatest painting. If the song hadn’t ended when it did, he would never have heard the gruff utterance of a language (which sounded strangely similar to Welsh) outside the door.

He froze in that instant and paused the music before the next track could begin. The voices were low to the ground, right outside his door.

As he listened to the voices speak, Drew set down his paintbrush noiselessly. He coiled up his headphones and turned off his mp3, stowing both in the front pouch of his hoodie, and the voices grew louder. Drew was not hallucinating.

And he was not alone.

Not anymore.

 

_Wessex_

 

“What do you have for me, Short?” Commander Root barked over the comms.

“Negative, sir,” Captain Holly Short replied tersely, “The goblins vacated the area at least an hour ago, as far as I can tell. They left their chip bags and gaming consoles behind, but the culprits themselves are as vacant as my patience with tracking them.”

Holly stepped over yet another soda can and a mound of crumbs, hand moving instinctively to the high beams on her helmet. The sound of Root’s swearing filtered down crystal clear through her speakers. For the past several years she’d been working for Section Eight, alongside a few choice LEP higher-ups, which gave her the chance to also work more side-by-side with the Commander (a change she wasn’t sure whether or not he appreciated). She, along with a small team that consisted of Foaly and Trouble Kelp, had been tasked with chasing down a rogue group of goblins working incognito for a shady human organization called “Knighthood.” So far, their search had been fruitless. Unless, that was, if the objective of the mission had been to forage for junk food and the latest greatest human videogames. But they were not in fact after chips and games, and so Holly cursed her luck.

Rather, she cursed her centaurian support at HQ.

“Foaly,” she snapped, “you told me this place was showing heat signatures less than five minutes ago. Kindly tell me what changed.”

An indignant neigh sounded in her ear.

“If you’re suggesting that my systems are to blame...”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“Well, they _aren’t_. Until you stepped into that warehouse, there were seven goblin-shaped objects on thermal. As soon as you crossed the threshold, they were gone. My best guess is that either the goblins or Knighthood operatives figured out a way to determine when they were being traced. They projected false signatures into the building as a decoy, while the real goblins vamoosed.”

“I’d say that it’s possible we’re chasing ghosts, but the evidence would suggest otherwise,” Holly admitted. “My scanners are picking up goblin DNA all over the place.”

“Foaly, how much progress have you made on deciphering Knighthood’s servers?” Root blurted. “If it takes you much longer, I’ll put in an order for Fowl to collaborate with you.”

Foaly typed something furiously into his keypad, not daring to admit that Artemis Fowl’s help might actually be useful in this instance.

“Truthfully? Not much. They’re not exactly being subtle about mentioning goblins in their private chats, which is bad enough as it is, but it means the grunts are definitely getting paid. In junk food. But there’s no talk about what the goblins are actually doing.”

Fairy sightings had become a slightly more regular phenomenon since the world’s technological reboot. It had taken months for humanity to develop new surveillance systems and the like, and once they had it was a matter of figuring them out and determining new methods of avoiding detection. For a more dignified example, a rogue sprite had attempted to gain entry to an outdoor rock concert, only to find that his Camfoil was showing up as a bright patch of static on human cellphones.

But now that goblins were explicit talk in the human overworld?

Chaos was surely imminent.

“With their brainpower, there’s not much for goblins to do that humans can’t do themselves,” Holly put in. “Heavy lifting is a no-go, they obviously can’t interact with executives on a regular basis, they can’t do paperwork, and they don’t get much time out in the open - otherwise, there would be plenty of footage floating around the new ‘net. Wait....”

Holly bent down to pick up a stray chip bag. At first glance it appeared to be your average bag, but on the inside…

She toyed with the foil, bearing the annoyance of having her Section Eight-issue gloves smeared with powdered cheese, and turned the whole thing inside out. The light from her tunnel beams gleamed off the surface, and underneath there was the unmistakable sight of black print. Rows and rows of encoded text were written across the insides of this bag, and, undoubtedly, every bag.

“Commander,” Holly said, grinning, victorious, “I think I know what our reptilian friends are up to.”

“Well, spill it, Short, it’s been six weeks since the last breakthrough!”

“These chip bags are covered in code - hidden messages for Knighthood employees to find and translate. The goblins are messengers and they don’t even realize it. They just think they’re getting free food, and Knighthood operatives give them the chip bags and instruct them to go eat in certain locations. When the goblins make a break for it they leave the trash behind, and the garbage collectors gather up the messages. It’s an incognito communication system. And what better way to keep your conversations private than to have messengers that don’t technically exist?”

Root sighed.

“That sounds far-fetched, even for you, Short…”

Foaly cut in, “I’d agree, except for the fact that she’s right. My systems just translated the first few lines of code on that bag, and, despite the cheese dust, it’s entirely legible.”

“Oh, and let me guess; it’s got something to do with what Knighthood is doing?”

“I wish it didn’t. I really wish it didn’t - the message on this bag talks about how to find dragons.”

And both Captain and Commander at the same time said, “D’Arvit.”

 

Drew approached the door, wary of the spots where his footfalls would make the floorboards creak. The muffled voices outside switched to English, conveniently, and he pressed his ear up to the door frame.

“ _I say we barge in, blasters blazing,_ ” said the first voice.

“ _Shouldn’t it be ‘blasters blasting’?_ ” corrected the second.

“ _You idiots, Knighthood said to take the kid without leaving a scratch,_ ” said the gruffest of the three, “ _We should ask him politely before we knock him out, don’tcha think?_ ”

“ _But can’t they do their tests just fine with a dead dragon? I’m bored. All I’ve done for the past week is eat Cheetos and play Mario Kart,_ ” the first one complained again.

Drew pulled away, feeling a cold sweat run down his back. There were people of an unidentified sort sitting outside his room, armed and plotting to kill him (or at the very least, abduct him). The voice in his head told him to rip his art table away from the window and bust through the screen, but another voice was louder.

It told him: **_find a weapon_ **.

Drew’s heart leapt about ten beats per minute. Without a care (as the intruders had none), he turned and reached for the metal pole of his colorguard flag. Drew wielded it like a spear, aiming its taped end towards the door. The voices grew more agitated; between arguing about which Mario Kart character was better and what flavor of cheetos made fireballs hotter, it seemed the intruders couldn’t decide amongst themselves how to take him.

In an act of bravery that Drew had never before performed, he ripped open the door.

The intruders were less than a meter tall, with reptilian faces and eyes. They were wearing rags that looked like shed skin, and brandished weapons that were definitely _not_ of human design. They stared at him in shock, not having predicted this outcome. The shortest of the three goblins (For what else could they be?) gulped, which gave Drew the confidence he needed to do what he did next.

“ _Heads up!”_ he shouted.

Drew shoved the pole longways to catch all three of his aggressors in the throat. One of the goblins actually did stick his head up farther, and so the flagpole caught him right in the collarbones. Their skulls rebounded off the wall in a one-two-three sequence that was almost comical.

Drew laughed at his luck, not being any aggressive sort. Taking advantage of the goblins’ dazed state, he darted down the hallway and into the living room. He vaulted over the back of the couch in his frenzy, nearly toppling it into the kitchen table. He dove around the peninsula counter, smacking his hand on the stool. Drew put his back to the counter, listening.

The groans of the goblins rose over the pounding in his ears, and one of them shouted something in that Welsh-sounding language. Two more voices entered the house.

If I didn’t know any better, his inner comedian thought, I’d say this was some extreme version of Dungeons & Dragons...

Drew lunged forward, pulling open the low cabinet. At the back was his father’s tool chest. The teenager’s fingers fumbled the keypad, and he cursed his adrenaline rush for making him forget the passcode. Was it their address number? Phone extension? A date? Yes! The year their house was built. He flicked through the tumblers until the sequence read _1983_ , and popped open the lock. The goblins exclaimed something, having heard the sound. Drew’s chest burned as he filched through the contents of the tool chest. He chose the wrench as his melee weapon, and for long range….His eyes settled on the staple gun.

He heard the five goblins’ footfalls closing in on him, and his chest hurt from having to stifle his breath. Drew shredded a package of new staples, feeding them into the gun with fingers that were cooperating less and less. He took a fleeting glance at the kitchen doorway, heart leaping as he saw a shadow lingering there.

The first of the goblins rounded the corner, and Drew locked the staple gun shut.

He fired off a shot.

 

_Section Eight, Lab 14_

 

When Holly returned to HQ, Foaly was waiting for her with an open line to Root and Wing-Commander/Councilwoman Raine Vinyàya. Up on Foaly’s massive screen display was a summation of the People’s entire knowledge of the dragons: the secretive ninth fairy family.

Dragons were ultimately the most powerful of the families. Their reptilian forms were upwards of twelve feet tall with the ability of flight, blue fire-breath, accelerated regeneration, sonic and subsonic roars, advanced hearing, and a strong resistance to magic. They themselves had no magical inclination, but rather a close alignment with energy: solar, kinetic, and thermal. They were also highly adept at picking up changes in emotion and aura, which made them sensitive and arguably timid. Holly had never seen a dragon herself, but the stories she’d heard painted them into majestic creatures that could easily take down a troll in minutes. Gigantic. Forces of nature. The humans had waged a war against the poor beasts for centuries, and it was thought that they were gone for good, as Foaly was recapping.

“So the lowdown is that about six-hundred years ago, the last of the dragons were exterminated by humans for their supposed ‘gold.’ Dragons never lived in Haven, which you probably remember if you’re old enough, but had multiple safe societies hidden around the world. They didn’t really have a place here, seeing as they’re all human-sized or larger…”

“We’ve all read the lore, Foaly,” Vinyàya interrupted, “Tell us what this has to do with Knighthood.”

Foaly nodded his head to acknowledge Holly’s entrance, motioning her over to share the keyboard space.

“Okay, so the codes we translated from the bags Holly found talk about different methods of tracking dragons and defending against their abilities, should there be some kind of uprising. But the tone of the messages seems to suggest that Knighthood is planning to actively seek them out and kill them.”

“Despite their coincidental name, don’t the people at Knighthood know that the last of the dragons are dead?” Holly input.

Root cleared his throat.

“Well, Short, we’re about to find out whether that’s true or not. Donkey boy, here, has his gene-tracing bots on a scavenger hunt across all six continents.”

“ _Julius_ is correct,” Foaly returned out of sheer spite, suppressing a grin at seeing the Commander’s face turn a few shades redder in the corner of his eye. “Remember the dragonfly scanners I used during Opal’s apocalypse? Right now I’m running on ARClight 5, which is to say that I’ve reprogrammed the ARClights to scan purely for abnormal genetic information. I had to sacrifice video capabilities for speed and enhanced altitude range, but I’d say it’s a small price to pay, given the unique circumstances.”

Vinyàya nodded her silver head of hair.

“And any minute now all of our systems should be receiving the data they collect. If there are none, then Knighthood’s efforts may be ignorable. If not, we could certainly end up with a catastrophe on our hands.”

They waited. A map was displayed on all screens, the scanners’ trails gleaming bright red. Holly felt her heart rate increase as she held in a breath, sensing her superiors do the same. If a dragon was found alive, it would be groundbreaking. Unprecedented.

And, perhaps, the rest of the fairy folk would be given a chance to restore a society they’d failed to protect.

There were thirty or so of Foaly’s drones. They hovered temporarily around areas with high population-density, then moved on. Each time the lights blinked, Holly was fooled into thinking that perhaps the scanners had found one. First Australia was cleared, then South America and Antarctica. Two bots declared the Philippines devoid, and another twelve ruled out Africa. All of Eurasia was cleared. Which left….

The ARClights completely ignored Canada, buzzing furiously toward the United States. They circled the coasts, spiralling closer and closer to the center. Foaly magnified the map, watching with avid fascination as his scanners targeted Missouri, and then Jefferson County.

And there it was.

A tiny green blip, pulsing at the heart of a school building.

“I need to inform the rest of the Council about this, much as I’m reluctant to do so,” Vinyàya said, “They’re going to want to turn this dragon into a spectacle, or at the very least place them in testing for the next century.”

Holly let out a slow breath.

“Foaly, you said your scanners don’t have video feed?”

“Unfortunately not, however….” The centaur typed a sequence into the keypad, and his computers said in response, “ _Initiate aero-genetic sampling?_ ” to which he replied, “Initiate.”

He addressed the Commander and Vinyàya, “My scanners can filter out the dead skin cells in the air around the school to find the dragon’s only. Once that’s done we can figure out if he’s related to any of the dragons we have on record. Here we go…”

The child’s DNA sequence appeared on-screen, double-helix twisting in an infinite loop. The genetic analysis determined that the dragon was seventeen years old.

A teenager.

Somehow, despite being the first and only of its kind found alive in centuries, it was a child.

“Great,” Root fumed, lighting one of his fungus cigars, “another kid to look after. If this one’s anything like Fowl, I swear to Frond I’m resigning.”

“Search LEP and Section Eight databases for existing hereditary match,” Foaly instructed, and the computer did.

The database consisted of every fairy living in Haven, Atlantis, or one of the various safe houses planted around the planet. In addition to those were the dragons; at least, those that had consented to genetic sampling. This process took several minutes, despite the processing capability of his systems. Once that time had elapsed, the computer announced that a match was found.

“Display,” Foaly said emotionlessly, covering his excitement.

“ _Paternal match found: Kortallen Ezhné Pandalayn,_ ” the computer declared, reading aloud the words scrolling in bold gnommish across the bottom of the largest screen.

The picture above it depicted a dragon with lime-green scales and dark red horns. His face (humanoid, in one of the photos) was framed by bright scarlet hair and aquamarine symbols. His irises were a brilliant hazel, more numerous in hues than Holly’s. His semi-humanoid form was seven feet and three inches tall. A three-dimensional image of his dragonoid form rotated in the far screen, and sound-bytes of his voice and roar were available for playing just below it. His personality description, offered by one J. Argon, labeled him as intimidating and a slight hothead with a particular affinity for fire. At least, he had been, when he was alive.

Looks like a real charmer, Holly thought.

As the assembled four processed this information, the computer chimed, “ _Secondary paternal match found._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Foaly’s fingers furiously attacked the keypad. “How is that possible?”

“What kind of glitch has your system picked up now, Foaly?” Root demanded.

“It’s _not_ a glitch!” the centaur protested, stamping a hoof, “These databases only contain samples from fairy origin, and dragons can only reproduce by assimilating genetic material acquired from _humans_ . The dragon gene is dominant, so once that child is born, it becomes full dragon. But there are no human profiles here….unless…. _oh, there’s no way_....”

Foaly buried his face in one hand.

“What is it?” asked Holly.

“The LEP database _does_ have humans. When we mind-wiped Fowl and his friends, we took samples from all three of them.”

Oh, no, Holly thought, don’t tell me...

The centaur pressed two more buttons, and with his mouth muffled he ordered, “Display secondary paternal match on screen.”

And the genetic profile of Artemis Fowl’s bodyguard, Butler, was displayed beside Kortallen’s.

 

The staple clipped the goblin’s eye and it collapsed back, howling in pain. Drew scrambled to a stand, weapon trained alternatively between the next two assailants. He fired off a warning shot, breathing heavy. The reptilians crouched low, circling predatorily.

“ _What do you want?!_ ” Drew demanded, eyes a picture of fear.

One of the goblins charged at him. Drew shot it and kicked its crumpled frame into the next room with a roar. Another came at him and he clubbed it in the head with the wrench. The others backed away, wary of his strength.

“Radon, he’s too strong,” one of the first intruders redundantly informed his leader.

The gruff one, apparently called Radon, replied, “ _Start shooting, then!_ ”

Drew’s eyes lit up with fear. In response he began shooting at everything in sight, actively gunning down targets. Their clothes and skin were ripped to shreds, but Drew kept coming. One of the goblins charged him from behind, leaping and grabbing hold around his neck. He choked for a moment and then wrenched its arms away, hurling it head over heels onto the floor. He kicked another across the face. The front and back windows of the house exploded inward, and at least ten more reptilian intruders barged into the fray.

Drew felt a white-hot pain shoot up his left calf, and he cried out, collapsing to the floor. With an iron grip on the staple gun’s trigger, he managed to incapacitate at least two more.

“ _D’arvit! Your blaster isn’t even on the lowest setting!_ ” Radon bellowed, “ _Set it to stun!_ ”

Another charge sank into Drew’s left arm, this one prompting him to scream. The goblins laughed. There were twenty of them at this point, all of them pressing around him to get in a hit. Realizing that these uncoordinated hit-men were really in a position to do some damage after all, Drew unleashed a war cry.

Against the sting, he rose to a stand, stampeding his way through the goblins, who dove to avoid contact. He released another ten shots and then the gun was empty. Drew chucked it at one of his aggressors’ heads, but kept going.

He dove for the cast-off flagpole, and once again wielded it in front of him. The goblins didn’t hesitate this time. Four of them aimed their blasters, and though three missed, one of the charges seared a neat hole through the flag silk.

 _You did not just do what I think you just did,_ Drew thought, mouth gaping in an _O_.

In retaliation, Drew gripped the end of the pole, and with one great swing he knocked all four shooters back ten feet. Then he resumed a ready position, striking outward at any goblins that came close. Seven he knocked unconscious, three were left with a concussion, and one would sustain permanent brain damage (at least, to what little part of his brain was worth using). But as Drew began to tire, more goblins entered the house with fresh bloodlust and fewer inhibitions. He panted, his lungs absolutely blazing.  

“ _I’ve had enough of this!_ ” Radon screamed, “ _Use your fire!_ ”

All at once, the goblins cast their weapons aside and paired up leering faces with palms full of fire. Drew’s eyes popped open, realizing the new weight of the situation. He tried to run past them, but three goblins grabbed his legs and pulled him to the floor. They all jumped him at once, biting and scratching.

Drew rolled onto his back, ramming one of the goblins’ skulls with his elbow. Another, which had been cutting off circulation to his ankles, he kicked in the ribs. But he was almost out of energy. He couldn’t fight anymore.

Radon towered over him, a fireball in each hand. The look on his face was perfectly predatory. Drew took a moment to say his silent goodbyes.

And then the front door was obliterated.

 

_Fowl Manor, Ireland_

 

Artemis Fowl the Second was engaging in a leisurely stroll through the grounds of Fowl Manor. Juliet was at a wrestling convention in Siberia, and his parents had taken the twins, Myles and Beckett, on a trip to Finland for the month. Artemis Fowl Senior had insisted that, while they were there, it would be pertinent to visit a dream analyst to help alleviate Beckett’s nightmares from his possession by the leader of the Berserkers and the murder of Opal Koboi. The unruly half of the Fowl twins woke up screaming and sobbing on a regular basis, and it was thinkable that he would be haunted by those memories for the rest of his life.

For now, Artemis was kept company only by the presence of his bodyguard, Butler, and that was how he liked it.

As he rounded the corner of a monstrous orange rosebush, Artemis lapsed into another train of thought: that Butler’s time in the world might be growing limited.

Over the past several years, he’d been shot, killed and revived through magic, and had his heart crippled with black magic. The warlocks in Haven (with the particular attentions of the demon warlock No1, upon his unscheduled return from the moon) had done some small wonders; but, as was the case when he’d been brought back entirely from the dead, he would never again function at full capacity. The years were wearing on him, and it pained Artemis to watch. He felt due pangs of guilt asking his bodyguard to do anything for him, despite fervent protest that nothing was ailing him. Holly had assured him after Butler’s revival that he was likely to live longer than he would have naturally, but what toll had later adventures taken?

Another cost my brilliance has paid, Artemis thought sourly.

“ _You’re mumbling, Mud Boy,_ ” said a voice in the rosebushes.

Artemis composed himself.

“I see Foaly has been working on a new cloaking method. Tell me, can you transform into a tree as well?”

“Oh, ha-ha, Arty,” Holly Short said, unshielding. She leapt out of the bushes with nary a petal disturbed, and wrapped him in a hug.

She noted that it was getting easier and easier for Artemis to engage in intimate physical contact. The last conflict they’d fought in together had changed him noticeably; he’d _died_ , for gods’ sake, and his body had only been maintained by the magical residues on the Fowl estate. It seemed his short time living as a non-corporeal being had bolstered his sense of empathy, as well as given him a slightly greater need for touch. She couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely he must have been.

“Is there any particular occasion for your visit, or did you catch word that my parents are out of the country?” Artemis queried. “They almost didn’t go this time, knowing that their absence conveniently and unfailingly leaves fairy armageddon in its wake each time.”

Holly matched his stride as they continued on.

“Well, Angeline _did_ tell me that Beckett was still having nightmares, despite Foaly’s _REMtime_ dream app, but that’s not why I’m here. Have you been keeping any tabs on the human organization Knighthood?”

Artemis took a moment to retrace his thought process back several months.

Knighthood had actually crossed into his radar several times in the past year, and he’d allotted an entire afternoon to researching their history. They were a group with no identified purpose and no discernible pattern of behavior. Buy a small company there, build a warehouse there, sell an asset somewhere else. For the most part they were an environmentally-concerned group, albeit a conservative and prejudiced one. They made progress through the strategic application of political and economic pressure, never with actual force. And their qualifications for membership were curiously discriminatory; you had to be strictly of European descent (preferably Anglo-Saxon), of excellent physical state, and willing to support any cause that the executive members pursued. They’d once sent him an email about considering membership, which had undoubtedly been an attempt to leech from his abundant wealth, and he’d declined immediately with a scathing letter. However, every once in a while their name would still cross his mind.

“They’re an intriguing group, certainly. Their membership requirements are reminiscent of a white-supremacist organization, but they run like a business. A blatantly disorganized business, mind you,” said Artemis.

“Well, it’s turning out to be much more than that. On my most recent recon mission I was investigating a goblin hideout, which turned out to be the destination of an underground messaging network. So underground they don’t even use concealed radio waves or text. Old school hidden code….printed on the inside of chip bags.”

“And what did these _chip-bag codes_ reveal?” he returned, interest piqued.

Holly paused. “Knighthood is hunting for dragons.”

Artemis said nothing.

“You already knew dragons existed, didn’t you?” she challenged. “Of course.”

“Of course. As I’ve said, Foaly’s servers are my servers, for all intents and purposes. If he has information on anything from dragons to the drinking habits of a particular Tibetan monk on a Friday evening, then so do I. And seeing as that’s the case, I’m going to make an educated guess that you’re here for my help.”

“Not quite, Arty,” Holly said, ear twitching nervously, “I mean, not officially. Officially, I’m here because Commander Root and Vinyàya have ordered me to deliver some information….and some news.”

The way she said “news” made him stop. Artemis looked down at her gravely, fearing that the warlocks might have made a new diagnosis about Butler’s health since his last venture belowground.

“What news, Holly?”

The elf took a long breath.

“There’s no easy way to put this, so I’m going to be blunt. We found the last living dragon. He lives in America. Missouri. And Artemis….” She met his eyes. “He’s Butler’s son.”

The Irish boy’s eyes lost focus as he tried to comprehend it.

When had this happened? Sometime after he had been born? But he’d always been told that Butler never left his side from the minute of his birth, so when had he had time to...produce a _child_? And with a dragon, no less. Why had Butler never mentioned having a son? How was this possible?

Breathless, he replied, “I believe this is going to take some explaining on your part.”

 

They resumed conversation exactly twenty-one minutes later, with an open link to Section Eight headquarters and Police Plaza, and with Butler in attendance. Artemis had the genetic profiles displayed on his biggest monitor, while Foaly explained the specifics. Butler appeared to be taking it in stride, at least outwardly, but Holly’s elfin intuition told her that he was having an internal crisis. He was sitting straight-backed in his chair, features iron. The glow of the monitor, being the only source of light in the room, was eerie in the way that it lit up only certain portions of his face. He stared into the translated text with unblinking eyes, asking few questions.

“What do we know about him?” the giant manservant posed as his first query.

Foaly was ready. He spoke in clear, clipped sentences.

“His name is Druvidian Riley. Goes by ‘Drew’ most of the time. Seventeen years old, does Colorguard and Archery club. Straight-A student, never had a behavior referral. His therapist has diagnosed him with depression, paranoid anxiety, and gender dysphoria. Parents are Cassie and Thomas Riley, younger sister is Jaxy Riley, older sister is Stephanie Riley. He has a pretty tense relationship with his family. His sisters are highly abusive, and the rest of the Rileys have largely rejected him because he’s atheist and very much _not_ -straight.”

“Do you have any video footage of him or the house? Any pictures?”

“Drew keeps a mostly anonymous online profile, in obedience with his parents’--sorry, _adoptive_ parents’--wishes. His school doesn’t keep photo identification in their systems, he has no passport, and I’m sorry, but I don’t feel it would be very moral of me to hack your son’s laptop camera. He does have a driver’s permit, but the legal name on it doesn’t match his real one because he’s transgender. But, if I retrace his bus route and hack into one of the traffic cams along the way...”

The centaur dashed out some code, and in the next minute a grainy image appeared next to Drew’s profile. He ordered the image to scale-up and enhance. The picture zoomed in to the third seat from the front, and there was a sturdy-built boy with icy blue eyes, blond hair spiked up in the front, and facial features that spoke rumors of Butler’s own. He was wearing a grey hoodie with the word “SENIOR” embroidered across the front and a giant “17” written beneath it.

“This picture was taken yesterday,” said Foaly.

Butler stared at the screen for a long moment without comment. He’s like a younger me, he thought with a pang. Then he sighed raggedly, burying his face in his hands.

“Gods... How is this all possible?”

Vinyàya took her turn to explain.

“Section Eight has a small file of information about the dragons’ reproduction. Apparently, all they need is some form of light physical contact to have obtained enough genetic material for the process. Even skin cells floating in the air are enough. They assimilate the genes and, regardless of gender, they then produce a child. Dragons usually raise their children very closely, which leaves us with many questions, the first of which being in regards to how Kortallen has survived for the past few centuries unnoticed, and why he left Druvidian in the care of a human family. There’s no telling if Kortallen knows Druvidian is still alive, if _Kortallen_ is still alive, or if Druvidian knows what he is.”

“We’ve traced his genetic signature back to his house and placed it under light surveillance, so we’ll know if Knighthood manages to find him,” Root said, “It’ll take a few days for the Council to approve visas for a stationed Recon crew.”

“Are you going to be okay, Butler?” Holly asked, coming to the giant man’s side.

Butler rubbed his eyes. He rose to a stand, and began pacing around the room.

“I don’t know. If I were anyone else I’d say this was all impossible, but I’ve seen too much of the fairy world to believe it isn’t. I just…I can’t wrap my head around it. And it goes against all of my training to say this, but I already practically _have_ a son.” (Across the room, Artemis clasped his hands in front of him and lowered his eyes to the floor. Holly didn’t know what to make of that expression.) “How can I be expected to take care of a second teenager if my job is to protect the first without question?” He paused to look at Foaly’s comm screen. “Is Drew in any immediate danger?”

“No. You won’t need to be concerned with protecting him until we’re sure Knighthood knows where he is. Until then, Drew will just be a regular kid,” the centaur reassured him.

Artemis took a step forward.

“Butler, I will not forbid you to develop or maintain a relationship with Druvidian. He is your son, regardless of what I am to you.”

“Then what use am _I_ to _you_ ?” Butler said to him, conflict written very clearly in the slant of his brow. “You already _died_ , Artemis. I failed, as a bodyguard, to protect you, and I will bear that shame forever. I will not abandon your side again, not even for my own family.”

Artemis laid him with a gaze that held no blame.

“You are my oldest and most trusted friend. I value your life higher than gold, and that is something I do not often concede to. And until the day you finally pass on, I will do everything in my power to allow you to be with your son.”

But the mood of the room changed dramatically in the next moment, because from behind Butler came the sound of a dropped bag. The inhabitants of Artemis’s study jumped, including those on camera, and turned to see the source of the noise. Standing in the open doorway was none other than Juliet Butler, coffee in one hand and lifting up her sunglasses with the other. Her suitcase had tumbled to the floor upon her arrival, suggesting that she had just arrived from a plane trip. Her green eyeshadow accentuated the shock on her face.

“I have a _nephew_ , and you didn’t _tell me?!_ ” Juliet shrieked.

Nobody else was in a fit state to react, so Vinyàya replied, “To be fair, miss Juliet, your brother has only just found out himself.”

And just then, in yet another ironic twist, the comm link that contained Commander Root’s face exploded with volume. The speakers on his desk screamed interference static, and he jumped a good foot above his seat.

“ **_D’arvit, Kelp! Turn down your comms!_ ** ” Root roared, face reddening by the second.

“ _Sorry, Commander!_ ” Trouble Kelp’s voice replied, still at the highest volume, and then the rest of his words were enveloped in static.

Root jammed his finger into the volume control button.

“ _What the hell did you say?_ ”

“ _I said one of the Recon teams just found another abandoned goblin hideout! The analytics squad decoded the text on the inside of the bags; it says that Knighthood has found where the dragon lives and they’re sending a team to capture it!_ ”

Holly’s ears drooped as the air left her lungs.

All eyes shifted to Butler, who glared into the monitor. He stared at the traffic-cam image of Drew, silent as if having a mental argument with himself over whether or not to pursue a mission to protect his son. His eyes instinctively turned to Artemis for permission, despite all of the sirens in his head (and a tiny metaphorical Madame Ko, beating his frontal lobe in with a masamune blade) telling him not to.

The Irish boy nodded slowly, indicating clearly. _I want you to go._

Butler swallowed, and then addressed the fairy Commanders.

“I’m going to get him,” he said finally.

And nobody would have stopped him if they’d had even half a mind to.

 

Drew yelped when the door hinges relinquished their hold and the door collapsed to the ground ten inches from his scalp. His head swiveled to see an absolutely **_gigantic_ ** man enter the open entryway and begin shooting the goblins crowded around him. The creatures shrieked and dove for cover, but the man’s aim was deadly. The fury on his face made Drew shuffle back in fear, mouth gaping, because he had no way of knowing if that fury was meant in part for him. The bang of each shot made him jump.

“ _It’s that human!_ ” one of the goblins cried, “ _The one that defeated a troll! Arte-_ ” and the words died in his throat as he was gunned down.

Growling, seeing his underlings die one by one, Radon whipped around and leapt for the giant gunman. The man caught him by the throat in midair, held him aloft so his cold eyes could convey his rage, and threw him across the house. Radon’s body crashed through the open back window, and multiple of the other goblins took this as a sign to retreat. The blond, stern-faced man fired three more shots and reloaded his gun. (Despite Holly’s insistence, there would be no Neutrinos used here; this was a family matter.) Drew gaped at him, breaths shaky, hand searching for the flagpole or another weapon: anything that might give him the slightest fighting chance.

He looked up and froze. The man’s eyes locked with his.

Or, at least he thought they had.

The giant man raised his Sig and fired, and Drew screamed, hiding behind his arms. But when the noise was gone a moment later, he was unharmed. Drew turned to look behind him, and saw the theatrically delayed collapse of a goblin, whose head was still smoking from the hole between its eyes.

Drew felt his lungs empty of air. Panting, he dared to return his gaze to the gunman.

The man towered over him. He was at least six and a half feet tall, if not more. He wore a suit that looked more expensive than Drew’s paychecks would cover in a number of years, and his blond hair was shaven down almost completely. His facial features looked oddly similar to Drew’s, but were battle-hardened and almost cruel, in light of recent events.

“What’s your name?” Butler asked out of politeness, though he already knew the answer. The sudden bass of his voice startled the teenager sprawled beneath him.

Drew swallowed.

“Drew Riley,” he replied shakily, voice barely a whisper.

Butler offered a hand to help him up, but Drew shuffled back and got to his feet on his own. He didn’t dare blink. (He noted that the man’s voice carried an accent of some European origin. Mostly British. Was that a hint of Russian?)

“There’s going to be more of them soon,” the man continued, not skipping a beat, “And the next ones, I can guarantee, aren’t going to be goblins. Come with me.”

Dazed, Drew allowed the man to drag him out of his house (but not before being ordered to put on some shoes) and plop him into the backseat of a sleek, rented car. The smell of the vehicle’s interior made his stomach turn, somehow worse than the stench of gunpowder and goblin breath. The man then took command of the driver’s seat, assessing the wave of goblins that was filtering from around the house.

“Who the hell _are_ you?” Drew said finally.

The man in the front seat gave a long sigh. He turned his whole body around to look at Drew, and his eyes immediately softened.

“My name is Domovoi Butler. I’m your father. Now buckle your seatbelt.”

Drew complied in the half-second he was given, and then the car sped away from his house. It was the last time he’d see his childhood home for a long, long time.

He had with him only the mp3 player in his pocket.

 


	2. Questions Are Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, the entire first chapter was what my dream encompassed. AAAAND things kind of just evolved from there… Be sure to leave kudos and reviews! I’m always open for feedback (starving, actually). Things get pretty crazy in this chapter, and Drew and Butler have their first real conversation. Get ready for a mild fourth-wall break huehue…. Sorry there's no art this time, but you can check out my art blog - atlasshadesart.tumblr.com.
> 
> Soundtrack 2: “The Game” by Poets of the Fall.

Butler pulled the car onto the nearest highway, eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror at equal intervals. Drew had his arms crossed across his chest protectively, and he stared unblinking into the creamy upholstery. His breathing was so quiet that if another person slipped into the vehicle they would have no idea that the back seat was occupied. The elapsed time for the present journey was more than thirty minutes, and yet not a single word had passed between them since leaving the Riley house.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who just got attacked by goblins,” Butler rumbled, disturbing the silence, “Surely you have questions for me.”

Drew scoffed once, probably at the word _goblins_.

He answered in a tone that was a lot more nonchalant than he felt. “Oh, they’re coming, just give it a minute. I’m still trying to wrap my head around what the _hell_ just happened.”

“Okay.”

And Butler returned his eyes to the road.

The car was pin-drop quiet for another ten minutes. Drew took that time to formulate his thoughts into concise questions (because he certainly didn’t want to annoy the giant man with a gun) rather than emotional babbling.

“So….goblins. What were they after me for, and why were they referring to me as _the dragon?_ What do they have to do with that Knighthood organization?”

Butler wasted no time in explaining.

“Those particular goblins were being hired by Knighthood to track down, apprehend, and then kill you. As you might have heard, they decided to just go ahead and kill you first, which, in all fairness, is probably what might have happened to you anyway if Knighthood operatives had gotten there before I did. And they were calling you dragon because...that’s what you are.”

“And you…” Drew took a breath. “You’re my dad? But you’re... _not_ a dragon?”

“No. One-hundred-percent human.”

Drew took a moment to process this, chewing on the inside of his lip. “Okay, uhm…. What exactly are goblins? I mean, aside from being goblins.”

Butler smiled.

“Goblins are a species of fairy, not exactly valued for their intellect or ability to collaborate without scheming for power.” (He saw Drew bounce his eyebrows as if to say _yeah, I noticed_.) “They’re mostly reptilian, they can conjure fireballs, and most of them don’t have the brainpower to use their abilities for much else other than crime. They, like most species of fairy, also have the ability to use magic.”

 _Jesus Christ,_ Drew thought, _my life has become a fanfiction_.

“Are dragons a type of fairy, too?”

Butler cast another glance at Drew. He’s timid for a Butler, he thought, but certainly not lacking in the analytical department.

“Yes. But you don’t have magic. Matter of fact, it looks like you don’t have any of your abilities yet….” He paused. “You’re taking this extremely well, for a teenager.”

Drew narrowed his eyes critically.

“Exactly how many teenagers do you keep in close contact with, in your profession? Whatever that may be?”

“One,” Butler admitted, “Though he’s not exactly normal, by anyone’s standards. And I’m a bodyguard, for your information.”

Drew looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow.

“I would have gone with Special Forces or Black Ops or something, but okay. What did you say your name was, again?”

“Just call me Butler.”

Drew made a face. “Okay, _Butler_ , where are we going if not back to my house or to the authorities?”

“Ireland.”

“ _...Ireland?_ ” Drew echoed in disbelief.

“Dublin, to be exact. I’m taking you to the house of my employer, where I and a group of my friends can keep you safe while we work out what to do about Knighthood. And perhaps while you’re there, we’ll be able to help you with developing your abilities.”

The thought of having draconic abilities created a buzz at the back of Drew’s mind. “Your employer?”

Butler nodded.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that your employer is the teenager you mentioned being in close contact with,” said Drew, making Butler look back at him once more.

“What makes you say that?” the giant manservant asked, intrigued.

It was Drew’s turn to smile.

“Despite questioning my ability to accept the situation, you don’t talk down to me or treat me as if I know nothing about life in general. Most every adult I engage in conversation with has some overused life lesson to spew, or they nitpick what I say until every sentence that comes out of my mouth seems like a joke to them. You, in contrast, talk like somebody who actually has interest in what I have to say. You respect me for my ideas. My opinions. And I’d like to thank you for that.”

The giant man smiled back. Drew caught the expression in the way his cheeks bunched up around the eyes.

“You’re welcome.”

Butler took a right onto the exit ramp, and then merged into the blazing freeway stream. The vehicle’s interior was silent again for another twenty minutes.

During this time, he could feel Drew’s eyes on him, studying him, analyzing his facial features and body language. He submitted to the transaction without question, going over their conversation in his own head. When Butler took a half-second glance into the backseat, he saw an inquisitive, innocent young boy that reminded him ever so slightly of Artemis. But this boy, Druvidian Riley, was half-Butler and half-dragon. He certainly didn’t look it, but looks generally were misleading the the world of fairies and other magical technological nonsense that Butler had gotten wrapped up in over the past decade.

“You really _are_ my dad, aren’t you?” Drew said, making Butler look up into the mirror again.

“Yes.”

Drew sighed heavily, thumping the back of his head onto the seat, staring up into the heavens.

“ _Thank._ **_God._ ** ”

Butler’s internal face took on an expression of concern, though outwardly he didn’t express anything. “What makes you say that?”

“It means that I’m not related to anyone in the Riley family, which is honestly the best news anyone’s ever given me. They’re all horrible, judgemental people, and I wish I was never associated with them. They’ve treated me like an outsider--or a punching bag, in the case of my sisters--ever since I can remember. You asked me why I was taking this so well? It’s because today looks like a godsend in a long list of really, really bad days. I’m finally _out_. And...you know what? Thanks for that, too.”

Butler smiled once more.

 _I think I like you, Drew,_ he thought.

 

An hour later, the car arrived at an airport Drew didn’t know existed, and without even a single security check they boarded a jet plane that was as long as his house. Butler took the pilot’s seat, and Drew was left to watch Netflix or play Minecraft on the plane’s built-in computers. He decided against logging on to his email or social media, in case Knighthood was tracking him that way. Occasionally he gave the cockpit door a shy knock and joined Butler, only to be banished for spinning distractingly in the copilot’s seat.

Seven hours into the flight, Butler put the Lear jet on autopilot and stretched. They were in no danger of turbulence for a while, so he exited the cockpit to look for Drew.

He found his son curled up on the side seat, drawstring hood pulled closed, headphones blaring alternative music. All that could be seen was Drew’s nose poking out of the material, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Butler chuckled.

Drew could certainly give Artemis a few lessons on how to be a normal teenager.

And upon completion of that thought, Drew’s leg flew out in slow-motion to tap Butler’s leg. He paused the music, peeling his hood open.

“I knew I felt somebody’s passing breeze on my nose,” said the draconic teen. He sat up, pulling out his headphones. “What’s up?”

Butler shrugged. “I got tired of staring into the abyss,” he said in reference to the night sky. “How come you aren’t asleep?”

“I’ve got too much to think about. And actually this is convenient, because I had some more questions for you.”

Butler raised an eyebrow and took his place on the opposite seat.

“When did you find out about me being your son?” Drew began, “Because you don’t seem very comfortable with the idea of me, yet. That, and I don’t know how I’d feel if you knew about me all along and dumped me with the Rileys, and you only decided to come get me now because I was in trouble.”

“Believe me, I was only made aware of your existence just yesterday. Before that, I’d never heard mention about dragons or you or anything related.”

Drew thought for a moment, resting his elbows on his knees. “So you don’t….You don’t know-slash-remember anything about...how I was made?” he asked awkwardly.

Butler cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“No, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. As I’ve been told, the way that dragons reproduce is a very random selection. I was a one-in-a-million chance, truly. I never knew your other father, and if I did I’d certainly be having some tense words with him right now.”

“I have _two_ dads?” Drew grinned. “Nice.”

“Well, it isn’t confirmed whether Kortallen is still alive or not, so don’t get your hopes up. He had to have been alive at least seventeen years ago, in order for _you_ to happen, but technically no dragons have been seen for a number of centuries. So we don’t know.”

Drew sat up.

“There’s another question right there - what kind of shenanigans have you been through that you’re able to talk about things like goblins and fairies and dragons and _magic_ so openly? Generally speaking, the adult world likes to shun those things.”

“I’ve had plenty of years to adjust,” Butler grinned. “Considering who I’m employed to, life is never a dull moment. Sometimes it’s even been hazardous to my health, but no one ever said saving the world from evil pixies or goblin rebellions was easy. Also, there’s the puns, which nobody but me ever seems to pick up on.”

Drew laughed, his cheeks drawing up into an adorable smile.

“But you never explained why _you’re_ so accepting of the fairy world,” Butler returned.

“I mean, other than the fact that my house was shot up and invaded by goblins--which makes one tend to believe pretty darn quick--I’ve always believed that this world and this universe are simply too vast _not_ to house another sentient species. And I watch a lot of science-fiction, so there’s that too. What other kinds of fairies are there, besides dragons and goblins?”

“Well, the first one I met personally was an elf: Captain Holly Short. Then I had a tangle with a troll, which would have killed me had it not been for Captain Short’s healing magic. That tussle has made me a bit of a celebrity in the fairy world, as you might have heard one of the goblins mention earlier. Trust me, you don’t _ever_ want to encounter a troll. There’s also pixies, who are egotistical by nature, sprites, which are more so, gnomes, krakens, and dwarves, the latter of which you might not always be grateful for if you ever meet one. They have some...unsavory habits. Then there are centaurs, who are all paranoid and are generally geniuses. And then there’s the demons, who were just recently brought back into society a few years ago on one of my employer’s jaunts.”

“You keep referring to him as your employer. Who is he, exactly?”

Butler itched his nose. “His name is Artemis Fowl the Second. He and his family own Fowl Manor, which is where we’re headed, and he even owns this plane. He has two twin brothers, Myles and Beckett, who continue to cause havoc in the Manor on a daily basis and give my sister a constant headache, though she loves them dearly.”

“I have an aunt?” Drew said excitedly, “What’s her name?”

“Juliet. You might have heard of her - she’s an internationally famous wrestler.”

Drew’s mouth popped open in a disbelieving _O_.

“ _No._ _Way_. _The_ Juliet Butler? My aunt, your sister, is the _Jade Princess_?! Oh my god, that is fantastic! I, Druvidian, am related to the _freaking_ Jade Princess….” Drew put his hands on the sides of his head, grinning like an idiot. “This day could not get any more surreal,” he whispered.

While Drew had yet another internal crisis, Holly’s shielded form moved to Butler’s side.

“ _It totally could, though,_ ” she whispered mischievously, “ _Why don’t I-_ ”

“Don’t do it, Captain Short,” Butler growled, making Drew look up.

“Captain Short? Is that a crack at our height difference? Or… Wait, no, you said that was your….”

And then Holly materialized on the table in front of him.

“...Oh.”

Drew immediately sobered, taking in the sight of the beautiful black-clad elf before him. She was less than a meter tall, with brown skin, an auburn crew cut, and dazzling eyes, one of which was blue and the other was hazel. Proportionally speaking she was thinner than Drew, but probably just as muscular. She smiled at him warmly, helmet secured under her arm.

 _This is the most adorable person I have ever seen,_ Drew thought.

“Captain Holly Short,” the elf said, holding out a hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you, Drew.”

Starstruck, Drew shook her hand. “Likewise,” he said, eyes practically sparkling.

Butler sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

Holly turned to him. “What, you really thought I was going to stay cramped-up and shielded for the whole trip back to Fowl Manor? Nuh-uh, big man, I did not sign up for that.”

“You’ve been here the entire time?” said Drew.

“I’ve been with you ever since Butler rescued you from your house, acting as backup. I hung back at his request, though, at least until now.”

“I told you not to show yourself until we got back,” Butler said, annoyed.

“Have you seen your kid lately?” Holly reasoned, gesturing at Drew, “Look at him. He’s fine.”

This was, unfortunately, the worst possible thing that Holly could have said, because the universe has a way of overhearing such bold, positive statements and turning them into a curse. This phenomenon is often referred to as “karma,” and the universe does not often pass up chances to evoke it. In this case, it was about to be evoked in a very alarming manner.

Drew’s head snapped over at the window, and a low rumble sounded outside.

“Uh….I might not be, in a minute…”

Butler stood abruptly, seeing what his son had: there were two winking helicopters on either side of the Lear jet, and all four of them had gatling guns aimed at the empty cockpit.

 

“Drew, hide!” Butler bellowed, sprinting for the cockpit. Drew did indeed hide, as Holly ushered him into the bathroom, calmly telling him that it doubled as an airtight impact-resistant panic room. Heart pounding, Drew plugged in an earbud and played some soothing classic rock. Holly primed her Neutrino and shielded, shut all of the plane’s window covers, and took her place in the co-pilot’s chair.

Butler disengaged autopilot and clenched steel fists around the joysticks, slipping on a headset as forcefully as he could manage without breaking it. His face was a mask of rage, and Holly felt the waves of emotion pouring off his skin. As much as it intimidated her, she knew that Knighthood stood very little chance of contending with Butler now.

She synced her comms to Foaly and the Commander, and linked their joint signal to the jet’s radio.

“What the hell is going on up there, Short?” Root’s voice barked in her ear.

“Knighthood,” she said, voice hard, “They’ve got the plane surrounded and they’re aimed to fire as we speak. Are there any operatives from Atlantis stationed within range?”

Foaly’s end of the comms exploded with keypad gunfire. “Negative, Holly, but I’m sending out ARClight 1 to your exact location. Can you give me your general relative position?”

“Approximately eight-hundred and fifty miles from destination.”

“Foaly, we’ll be dead at the bottom of the ocean if Knighthood decides to go hostile,” Butler stressed, “This plane isn’t equipped for combat. Give me something to use against them. Some virus, anything!”

The centaur whinnied anxiously. “I’m trying! Their copters’ systems are some new-age post-reset crap! I haven’t encountered this kind of firewall before. It’s more like a Trojan virus crossed with the Great Wall of something or other. Oh, hello, what are y-” And his comms went dead.

Root’s voice made a noise of protest, and then he was gone, too.

Butler slammed his fist on the dashboard. As if in response to his outburst, all of the lights went dead. The jet maintained its course, steady and true, but they were blind. Holly turned to look at Butler, and he stared into the space where he thought her head was.

A daunting voice addressed them, not over the radio but the plane’s intercom.

“ _This is Agent Lancer of Knighthood,_ ” the voice purred, obviously masculine, “ _It may have occurred to you in the past few moments that you are transporting a very particular kind of cargo. It is my duty to inform you that, regardless of what you may have been told, that cargo is property of my employers at Knighthood_ . _Now, I’m a generous sort, so I’ll give you four minutes to drop your altitude and submit to boarding._ ”

Holly swore.

“D’arvit….How did they find us out here? We’re not on any official flight records.”

Apparently Lancer was tapped into the cockpit’s microphone as well, because he said, “ _It was a simple matter of hijacking your internet signal. From there we traced any and all internet activity, which led us to a certain teenage dragon’s Netflix account._ ”

“Are you serious?!” Drew cried out from his seat in the bathroom, though he thought nobody else could hear. “Not even _Netflix_ is sacred?!”

“ _Dreeeew,_ ” Lancer called in a singsong tone, “ _I know where you’re hiding in there._ ”

Hearing his name called, Drew jumped and shrank down in his hoodie. He decided to turn up the volume on his music a few notches, mouthing the words to distract himself. Meanwhile, Lancer turned his attentions back to those in the cockpit.

“ _You have three minutes remaining. If you do not comply, we will be forced to shoot you out of the sky and retrieve our cargo from that bomb shelter you call a bathroom._ ”

They know about the safe room, Butler thought, and they are not afraid to come out and say that they’re after Drew, which means that everyone on board those helicopters is in on the plan. And that means….we don’t have to keep our mouths shut, either.

“Agent Lancer, are you still there?” Butler rumbled.

“ _Butler, what are you doing?!_ ” Holly whispered furiously.

He silenced her with a wave of his hand. Lancer didn’t reply, so he said, “Agent Lancer, if you can hear me, I have a message for your almighty executives. You won’t find me, because I’m not in any database, so don’t bother trying to scan my voice patterns. I can and will find you, though, and you’ve just given me very good incentive to. Now, I want you to listen to me, and listen close; I have some friends in very high and low places, and some in places you won’t think to look in a million years. And if you ever send a team of goblins to abduct my son again, I can guarantee my face will be the last your eyes look upon before you die.”

“ _Does that mean you intend not to surrender?_ ” Lancer sounded almost satisfied.

“Yes.”

“ _Then you’ve just earned yourself a one-way ticket to the bottom of the Atlantic. Happy drowning, and Charla Maine sends her regards._ ”

And the lights turned back on, signaling the end of the conversation. The helicopters seemed to be flying circles around them, taunting, like sharks in water. Butler tried not to think about the fact that all three of them might literally be in a shark-circling situation in a matter of minutes, and cracked his knuckles.

He punched the intercom button, broadcasting to the entire plane.

“Alright, Drew, strap in. I’m about to perform some maneuvers in this thing that shouldn’t be aerodynamically possible.”

 

The Fowl Lear jet bucked and weaved like it was possessed by black magic, barrel-rolling around the Knighthood choppers as it accelerated towards Dublin. The helicopters opened fire, spitting bullets like seeds. Deadly seeds, that is. Butler rolled right, and the helicopters moved to cut him off. He dove, and they copied. Relentless.

Drew screamed each time he felt the plane dip and roll upside down, holding onto the straps of the bathroom seat for dear life. At one point he could have sworn they were skimming on the top of the waves, and at that point he was practically hysterical. Butler pulled the jet out of another steep dive, and Drew felt ready to heave. Poets of the Fall’s _The Game_ was playing at full volume, and the irony of the lyrics was almost too much to bear:

_See the puppet master laugh._

Drew could easily imagine Lancer cackling evilly from his seat in the helicopters, or Charla Maine, whoever she might be.

The Knighthood choppers kept coming, with seemingly infinite bullets. Not a single one managed to penetrate the metal skin of the jet. Butler realized that they weren’t just bad shots; they were actively trying to miss, to steer the plane towards its destination faster. They didn’t know where the dragon was being taken.

“Holly, they’re herding us!” Butler shouted over the scream of wind and air pressure, “We need to lose them before they figure out where we’re headed!”

But Holly was already gone.

She unstrapped from her seat, launching off the dashboard into the cabin in a horizontal Hollycopter maneuver. The weightlessness of the jet allowed her to move as if on a space shuttle. She heard Drew’s faint pitiful screaming, but there was no time to comfort him. Holly knelt down on the carpet, feeling herself begin to float as the jet reached the apex of yet another arc. She wrapped one hand around the bolted-down table leg, and placed the other on the floor.

She closed her eyes and concentrated, drawing all of her magic to the tips of her fingers. She’d just completed the ritual the day before, and she was ready to burst. Not for long.

This is either going to blow us up or hurt like hell, she thought, probably both.

And in the next moment, she willed her magic to shield the entire jet.

At first, Drew thought he was hallucinating. The bottom of the plane appeared to drop out from beneath him, but it immediately returned as he was shielded too. Everything from the carpets to the wingtips became invisible to the helicopters. The vibration also counteracted sonar, which meant that the Fowl Lear jet--and everyone on it--was essentially a ghost. The Knighthood helicopters immediately pulled back, having lost their target.

Butler saw the figures on his radar disappear, and he allowed himself a victory grin. He levelled out the jet, letting their navigation systems recover from its short aneurysm. He continued on straight for another five minutes before finally daring to speak.

“Are you alright back there, Drew?” he asked.

“Physically, yeah,” he replied, voice trembling, “Mentally, I’m going to have to get back to you. Emotionally, don’t even ask.”

Holly staggered back into the cockpit a few seconds later, looking absolutely drained.

“Oh, gods….I regret everything….”

She collapsed, unshielded, in the copilot’s seat, exhausted. The nerve endings in her fingers felt fried, her brain was tapped, and her magic was utterly gone. She might have to stow away in a suitcase for the short trip between the jet and the Fowl Bentley, upon landing, but it was better than being shot out of the sky, she admitted. But she vowed that she would never attempt to shield an entire plane from human eyes for a full five minutes ever again.

“What happened?” Butler asked, pulling off his headset.

“Shield. Big shield. Everything hurts,” Holly grunted. “Is Knighthood gone?”

“Long gone. You should go get some rest.”

But she was already snoring. Butler smiled, in spite of everything, and resigned himself to flying into the slow-rising dawn.

 

Another two hours passed in slumbering silence, and Butler maneuvered the jet into a flawless landing. Drew woke up still strapped to the toilet seat, earbuds screeching because his headphones had been pulled partially out. He was sleep-deprived and groggy, and his body hadn’t stopped shaking since the end of their near-death experience. He forced himself to unbuckle and immediately he flopped onto the floor. His stomach flipped, and he found himself turning right back around and heaving into the toilet. That was okay, though - after having so many stomach problems as a child, and having sat in bathrooms for hours on end in constant agony, he was just glad to _get it over with_.

Drew turned off his music and stumbled two feet over to the sink, knowing that every song he’d listened to two hours before would be absolutely ruined. He turned on the faucet and wiped down his entire face, wishing the acid burn in his throat would go away.

He opened the door and stretched, feeling the pain in his abdomen start to recede. There was a spot on the carpet where Holly’s magic had scorched a hole, but Drew dismissed it as irrelevant. He pulled open a window. The morning sun waved at him shyly from behind the low Irish hills, and it hit Drew that he was now standing in a different country, thousands of miles from home.

But really, was it home?

Butler emerged from the cockpit, an unconscious Holly slumped over his shoulder.

“Sleep well?” the giant manservant asked.

Drew set his father with the most dead expression he could think of. It wasn’t really a challenge, considering what kind of a state he was in.

“That had better be a joke.”

Without answering, Butler reached for the exit handle and headed out. Drew followed after, shoving his hands into his hoodie pouch. The sun disagreed with his eyes, which were more adjusted to darkness than anything else, so he looked every inch the moody teen he was at the moment. The airstrip was devoid of all persons except the three without passports. Butler approached the Bentley he’d left behind for the journey to America, unlocked it, and set Holly down in the front passenger seat. Drew wasn’t really in a mood to fight for the right to shotgun, so he collapsed into the back and was out again, cold.

Again in silence, Butler drove the car out of the private airstrip and headed to Fowl Manor.

He had no idea that a troop of Section Eight operatives was shadowing him the entire way.


	3. Shaky Groundbreaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was a really surreal experience because I could almost feel myself in it. Like, I can picture exactly how the car would smell (and like the cold temperature of it, like when you get into a car to go to work first thing in the morning), and the morning dew, and Artemis’s house, and...yeah. Anybody else ever have vivid imagination like that? Also, Drew is hella uncomfortable with being in the Fowl family castle. I don’t blame him. Some could tell horror stories… Oh, also, Mulch cameo incoming. And I figured I'd give you guys an art that isn't specifically for the fic, but nice anyway. Feel free to download it and use it as your wallpaper or whatever, just don't repost it or erase my signature pretty please!
> 
> Soundtrack 3: “Still Here” by Digital Daggers.

When the Fowl Bentley arrived at its destination, Juliet and Artemis were waiting outside, the former looking like she’d consumed fifty coffees, and the latter actually had. He’d stayed up all night, receiving constant updates on the position of the Lear jet after Foaly and the Commander had been cut off. A part of him was mortified at the trip’s outcome, understanding that none of it would have occurred if he hadn’t urged Butler to go  _ and  _ use his plane. 

_ No, _ his rational side said,  _ what’s done is done. You could not have prevented Knighthood from tracking them down. This way, there was no passenger manifest to show where they were going. Butler is safe now, and so is Druvidian. _

“One can only hope,” Artemis said aloud.

Juliet heard him, but, knowing that the thought process of the Fowl heir was not something to be questioned, said nothing.

The thought process of said heir was also elaborating on another topic - what would it be like to have another teenager in the Manor?

Was Drew of the flamboyant sort, like his aunt? Was he rude and judgemental? Was he a stupid disgrace to his true family’s name? Having forcibly interacted with his peers at St. Bartleby's, Artemis was not enthused to find out the truth. There were a select number of stereotypes that teenage boys could fulfill, and he himself was a rare exception.

_ If he turns this house into a so-called ‘dump’ _ , Artemis thought,  _ I will be having stern words with him, Butler or no Butler. _

The Bentley pulled around the circular avenue, coming to a stop at the front doors. Drew woke to a tap on his leg. He sucked in a breath, peeling open eyes that did not want to cooperate. Somehow the drive had made him even more groggy and disoriented than a snooze on a plane toilet seat. The word  _ vertigo  _ kept spinning around in his head.

He sat up, unbuckling. Holly stretched and did the same, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Rise and shine, you two, we’re here,” Butler said, turning off the engine.

Drew let himself out. Standing in the shadow the Manor, the chill of morning nipped at his ears and he shivered. His eyes turned to the building itself, which he realized was practically a  _ castle _ , and felt that a difference of class was about to become very noticeable between him and everyone else living here. He shoved his hands back into his pocket, barely awake, and followed his father around toward the stairs.

Before he could even blink, Drew was suddenly bombarded with a squealing Juliet. 

She hugged him and bounced around him asking all kinds of questions, checking to make sure he was okay, and just plain fawned over him. Drew recognized her immediately, but he was so exhausted and done with being awake that he didn’t have the energy to reciprocate her mood. 

“If you ever need anything, just let me know, okay?” She hugged him again. “Auntie Juliet will take care of you.” 

This is alright, Drew thought while being held against the Jade Princess’s shoulder by an iron pair of arms, but beds are nicer. Much nicer….

“Let the boy breathe, Jules,” Butler scolded, pulling her away and into a hug of his own. “It’s been a rough twelve hours.”

Drew smiled a little bit at watching their reunion, but a dark figure in the corner of his eye distracted him. He turned toward it. His gaze became fixed upon the most captivating teenage boy he’d ever seen, who was coincidentally also the most  _ intimidating  _ teenage boy he’d ever seen.

He was shorter than Drew, dressed in (if possible) a suit that looked more expensive than Butler’s and a silk tie the color of his eyes. One of his eyes. The other was the exact same hazel as Holly’s had been, and in the opposite socket. His hair was silken, so black it shone blue. His skin was practically translucent. He had manicured nails and facial features that Drew would  _ beg _ for, and a pair of reflective sunglasses was perched atop his head. He looked reminiscent of a grim reaper, or of a character from the Matrix. The waves of confidence pouring off of him made him seem years, no,  _ decades _ older than he was.

This boy, he knew, had to be Butler’s employer.

Artemis stared at Drew as well, having the breath taken out of him at how much he resembled a younger Butler. He looked like he’d walked out of a warzone. His clothes, common as they were, were intact, but his eyes told horror stories. Those eyes belonged to Butler too.

Drew decided to approach him, cautiously.

“You’re Artemis, aren’t you?”

He nodded, face passive and indifferent. “Artemis Fowl the Second,” he declared with an Irish accent, and reached out a hand in greeting.

Drew took it. Artemis made a mental note that the power behind the shake seemed to suggest that Drew wasn’t used to having to shake people’s hands. Or make eye contact. He was nervous, but not about the fairies or the revelations of his true identity. After everything that had just happened to him, after seeing goblins and Holly and  _ Butler _ , Drew was most intimidated by  _ Artemis _ . Interesting.

Artemis took the next instant to file away a mental note about Drew’s body language - he was tense, withdrawn, and not too thrilled to be engaging in conversation. His voice, most likely, was the crux of the matter. Drew had not yet begun hormone therapy, and it showed. Artemis would not make any comment in that regard, though. He knew all too well what Drew was experiencing.

“Druvidian,” the draconic teen said back, and winced when his voice cracked at the end.

“Druvidian,” Artemis repeated, as though he’d never heard the name before. “Welcome to my home. You’ll be under my protection as long as you are here, with the help of a few of my friends.”

Drew raised an eyebrow.

“You mean fairies?”

Artemis tilted his head, ever so slightly. “You catch on quicker than I’d anticipated.”

Drew shrugged. “So I’m told. Listen, I’m going to be straight with you...even though that is-” he chuckled, obviously at the slaphappy phase of sleep-deprivation “-that is  _ so _ not my usual MO. I really do  _ not  _ feel good, and I’m dying to get some real, wholesome sleep, so if you wouldn’t mind showing me to a bed before I pass out on your doorstep, that would be just...just swell….”

Artemis nodded, understanding.

“Juliet,” he called, “would you mind showing your nephew to his room?”

“Of course!” Juliet said gleefully from behind him. She took Drew by the arm and led him inside.

Artemis took a fleeting moment to watch him go, and was joined a moment later by his bodyguard. Holly was perched on Butler’s shoulder, still having a rough time staying conscious but adamant that she would not go through the indignity of being carried again.

“Well, old friend?” Artemis said out of the corner of his mouth, “What do you think of him?”

Butler pursed his lips. “Let’s save it for a later time, shall we? I’m sure the Commanders will want to know we’re all alive and in decent health after our run-in with Knighthood. On the plus side, I have a few names we can look into.”

The young Irish boy nodded in agreement. Holly leapt down from Butler’s shoulder, managing to stick the landing despite a stray footfall. The two humans followed after her, and as they did Butler leaned down to whisper, “ _ There’s no question about it - he’s definitely a Butler. _ ”

“Yes, but what do you  _ think _ about him?”

“... _ I like him. _ ”

Artemis only smirked in victory.

 

Juliet led him into what appeared to be a guest room. The walls were stained wood, with what was probably real gold trim, and the ceiling was painted and textured into white, dreamy whorls. There was a four-poster bed off to the right, flanked on either side by elaborate, mirrored dresser drawers, and expensive carpets. The windows were shut, bolted, and concealed by heavy embroidered curtains. Drew entered first, shyly, and the wrongness of his presence was a bit too much to bear.

“Don’t you have anything less...grandiose?” he asked wearily.

“This is the most modest room in the house, Drew,” Juliet said, “just make yourself at home. I’ll be right outside if you need anything, okay?”

Drew nodded without even comprehending, but he wasn’t motivated enough (or awake enough) to protest when she smiled and shut the door behind her. Before daring to step any farther, he removed his boots. He looked around the space he was confined to, deciding immediately that it needed more light.

Cringing, Drew gingerly pulled open the curtains. Light reflecting off the distant hills streamed through the window panes. He saw how the Manor, too, rested atop a hill, and the rest of the grounds fell away beneath it. There were elegant gardens and orchards at the bottom, and a sizeable greenhouse (all of which he would definitely investigate later; he felt a soulful connection to plant life) was connected to the Manor itself. Drew smiled at the thought of the outdoors, but the indoors was a bit much.

He yawned, reminded again of how little rest he’d had in the past day.

Reluctantly, Drew faced the bed. Briefly he considered bunking on the floor (because really, how bad would it be after a plane toilet and a backseat?), but banished the thought when he realized what impression that would make if Artemis found him lying there like something raised in a barn.

He took a deep breath, surrendering himself. Drew peeled the satin sheets away like they were delicate as air, and sighed in relief when the material underneath was plain and simple  cotton. 

Removed of all inhibitions, he collapsed onto the bed, still dressed, and fell into immediate, deep sleep.

 

The Fowl family and friends reconvened that evening in the study, after everyone had eaten and Holly had returned from completing the Ritual. Again. Juliet was not in attendance, preferring to stand watch outside Drew’s door at both her and her brother’s request. For the first fifteen minutes, Butler and Holly recounted the thrilling tale of Drew’s rescue. Root and Vinyàya were anxious for any detail about the dragon in question, though Butler wasn’t able to provide much information they didn’t already know, in regards to Drew.

“What about his powers?” Vinyàya demanded. “Has he been able to transform yet?”

“No, he hasn’t. Drew had no idea what he was before I told him.”

“But that doesn’t mean he isn’t powerful,” Holly cut in, “I felt waves of energy coming off him as soon as I got within a mile of his house. It’s no wonder the goblins were used to track his location - their sense of smell is all well and good, which explains why humans weren’t involved in the first raid, but only a fairy could sense energy levels like that. I was getting a headache just standing next to him.”

“I wonder what it would take to ignite his transformation…” Root said, sucking on a fungus cigar. “He’d certainly be useful on missions.”

Holly could see the logic in that - if they had a dragon in the LEP’s ranks, wrangling trolls and performing rescue missions in adverse weather conditions would be a breeze.

The others nodded their assent.

Butler didn’t.

“Are you seriously contemplating turning my son into a weapon?” he growled, bristling.

Root sat forward in his chair. “Let me put it this way, human. We have a chance here to restore an entire species that was thought extinct for centuries. There were wars fought against humanity for the right for dragons to live peacefully aboveground, but the rest of the fairy families wanted no part in them. We wanted to live peacefully, in hiding, because the casualties would be too great otherwise. So we left the dragons to fend for themselves. That’s a decision that our society has been dealing with for hundreds of years. If we can undo our mistake, it might give the People some hope again. Hope that one day soon we might be able to live on the surface again.”

“Don’t you remember what we had to go through to bring back that lemur a few years ago to save Artemis’s mother?” Foaly put in, “That time-travel business that nearly got Holly and Artemis killed? We don’t exactly get the chance to do that every other weekend. Except, in this situation, we won’t have to because we already have a live specimen. If we can get Drew’s abilities to kick in at a young age, he’ll have more time to train up so we can help him seek out or defend the dragons that are left...among other things.”

Butler crossed his arms.

“Then that’s a decision for Drew to make. From where I stand, it looks like you want to use him as a breeding animal, just like his father used me.”

Before Root could protest, Artemis decided to change the subject entirely.

He cleared his throat. “Foaly, what have you found on Agent Lancer and Charla Maine?”

“Well…” the centaur said, typing away, also glad to redirect Butler’s attention, “It says here that Lancer is apparently some sort of deputy, if you will, for the execs at Knighthood. Why he was in that helicopter chasing after Drew in the place of a grunt is beyond me. In fact, I’d go as far as to infer that he wasn’t even there - considering the advanced nature of the tech they use, they could easily set up an audio conference link through a hijacked plane system. Here’s the man behind the mic.”

He brought up a picture of a distinguished, redheaded man with blue eyes and a sculpted face. Other, smaller pictures appeared around the first, depicting Lancer with the same dead-eyed and hungry expression. Artemis recognized him as the American diplomat/white-supremacist Edward Lancer. The pictures placed him in key political events, conference meetings, and a limousine parked outside an office building. His face was being used for publicity more than anything.

“Interesting that they’d promote their agendas using a man who looks like a burning corpse,” Artemis observed, tongue dripping venom.

Foaly snickered. “I have to agree with you there, Fowl. But on the other hand, this ‘Charla Maine’ character appears to be a ghost. There are whispers of her floating through the chip bags, but no records of her exist anywhere else. And there’s only one picture of her online; it’s from an unknown source. Every time I click on the link it just takes me back to Knighthood’s main page. Here.”

Another picture appeared.

It was grainy, despite Foaly’s efforts to enhance it, and it featured a woman with wavy blonde hair down to her knees. Her eyes were black dots, probably deep brown or a shaded blue. There wasn’t enough detail to discern any distinct facial features or emotional expression. A ghost woman.

Artemis stared at the picture until the pixels disassembled and then reassembled themselves in his mind. Where, where had he seen her before?

Who was she?

“Can we even be sure that this is her?” asked Holly.

“No,” Foaly admitted, “but if I type her name into the search bar, this image is the only result. So this is all we have to go on.”

Root grunted. “Keep on it, Foaly. Work your centaur magic and get back to us when you’ve uncovered something new.”

“Technically our magic is the same as yours,” Foaly huffed, “but it’s a b-” and then Root cut him off.

Root went on, “I don’t like this….The last time a voice told us that somebody was ‘sending their regards,’ it was you on the other end of the line, Fowl. And look how that turned out.”

“I can hardly be blamed for the actions of a group that just attempted the murder of my own bodyguard,” Artemis protested.

“He makes a good point, though,” Holly said apologetically, “There’s a pattern emerging here. First the anonymous entity tries to take one of ours, and, though Knighthood has failed in that regard, there’s nothing to stop them from trying again. Secondly, we have names to hunt down after a near-deadly encounter. So you’ve been where Knighthood is now. You know how the chess pieces play out. Can you make a highly educated guess as to what their next move will be?”

“Of course. Either they’ll wait for us to make a revealing play, or they’ll flush us out. And since we’re obviously not going to do the first, not until Drew assumes his full strength or we have the information we need to make a coordinated retaliation, it’s only a matter of time before Knighthood tracks him down. And then, we may see what their motives are.”

“I thought it was pretty clear,” Butler said, sitting down, “they wanted to kill Drew. Isn’t that what the chip bag messages said?”

Artemis began pacing, holding up a finger. “That is what the chip bags  _ said _ , but that does not reflect what Knighthood is actually  _ doing _ ,” the Irish boy replied, raising a finger. “Lancer said he was going to blow up the jet and then retrieve the dragon alive. If he’d wanted to kill him, seeing as he knows  _ how _ , he could have just done it then and there….”

“But he didn’t.”

Artemis nodded. “But he didn’t. Tell me, Commanders, how  _ would  _ one go about killing a dragon? What say the chip bags?”

“Well,” Vinyàya began, “Dragons are pseudo-energy beings. They have waves of pure energy coursing throughout their entire bodies, which can be condensed and released as fire. It keeps them healthy, fed, and strong. The simplest way to kill them would be to overload them with more energy than they can dispel or use in a short period of time, such as with a high-energy bomb or nuclear weapon.”

“Which they could have done,” Artemis put in.

“Yes. However…there are other ways. One of which includes a very graphic depiction of shoving an iron lance down a dragon’s throat, which is how they had to do it in the olden days…. But what I’m getting at is that because dragons can also produce energy for themselves, as well as store it, they are essentially a kind of living battery. If Knighthood was driven to, they could….”

Holly paled as the implications hit her.

“Oh, gods. You don’t think they’d….”

Butler clenched his jaw. “They’d use him as a power source. They’d hook him up to machines in the basement of some compound and drain him slow...to power their facilities. They’d leave him just enough energy so he could survive, but keep him locked up for the rest of his life.”

“Or use him as a bomb,” Root grunted, “but then again, that’s not how they like to operate.”

Artemis continued to pace.“So…Knighthood does not intend to kill Druvidian. They instead plan, most likely, to use him as a renewable fuel source. To what end? Simply the satisfaction of having a dragon for a slave? Ninety percent of all companies now use solar and water power in place of so-called ‘traditional’ fuels, so what would be the point? There is something we are missing, here.”

“Maybe not, Artemis,” Holly said. “Maybe things are simpler than we think. Maybe we’re looking too hard for a pattern.”

The thought had never crossed his mind. Artemis was so used to doing intellectual battle that the simple motives were often lost on him.

“What are you implying?”

She cradled her head in one hand. “I mean, honestly, they’re called ‘ _ Knighthood _ .’ If that’s not a dead giveaway, I don’t know what is. Typically speaking, don’t knights just kill dragons?”

Artemis sighed.

“Have we not just discussed that there is clearly more to their actions than that?”

“I must agree with Captain Short,” Vinyàya said, “It’s been established that Knighthood appears to have a random pattern of behavior. Acting upon a predictable series of motions is not something they can be accused of. Perhaps their protocols of ‘take the dragon and leave no witnesses’ are merely a ruse, as well as the uncoordinated siege of goblins at the Riley house. They may simply be trying to dissuade heavy thinkers by portraying the image of an organization that is so complex that its pattern is entirely unpredictable…”

“When in reality they have one simple motive:” Root finished, “kill the dragon like the righteous human knights they are.”

Holly nodded. “It would explain why they prefer European or Anglo-Saxon members - those who are descended from groups that produced the stereotypical knight.”

Artemis assessed this theory, letting it swim around and confer with the cells in his brain. It appeared to be plausible, with a certain line of thinking, but he was reluctant to admit so. Rather than confess his preference for the newest theory (and in doing so, admit that he might be wrong), he said;

“We shall see. In the meantime, our prime priority must be Drew’s safety and development.” He turned to Butler. “It should please you to know that the Manor is now entirely satellite-proof, in terms of imaging.”

“Oh? How did you manage that?” Foaly’s voice said. He’d been listening the entire time, even after being cut out of the video conversation.

“Foaly, I thought I told you to get working on those profiles!” Root shouted.

“I  _ am _ working on them, Julius, I just wanted to know what Fowl’s been working on.”

“ _ Don’t call me that, you overgrown mule! _ ”

“Gentlemen,” Artemis said in a tranquil voice, “fairies, friends. Can we please return to the subject at hand?”

Foaly and Root reached an unspoken truce, listening.

“I did a little bit of retro-engineering with an earlier prototype of the Ice Cube project I introduced to you a while back on Vatnajökull. I discovered that if I redesigned the nano wafers to adhere to such substances as grass or rock or dirt, rather than water, I could disperse them over a space to reflect sunlight into the eye lens of any satellite. The Manor and grounds appear to be a spot of white, nothing more. The same concept applies for drones and a menagerie of different cameras. And the wafers are smart; they know when they’re being watched. They can defend against up to a thousand cameras at once, and anyone who dares to look will dismiss it as a technological error or a lens glare. I know, because I tested the wafers on one of your mapping satellites.”

“That’s what that was?!” Foaly cried. “I spent  _ months  _ trying to figure out why Ireland was just a giant white blotch! I thought it was a glitch.”

“It was no glitch, my centaurian friend, and I apologize. I hadn’t perfected the light focus yet.”

Root lit another cigar. 

“Well, Fowl, I’ll admit that’s clever. It’ll keep Knighthood off our tails for a while longer, at least. But at the first sign of trouble, I want Drew underground. I’m not taking any chances with his life.”

“Nor am I,” Butler agreed. “We’ll contact you if the need arises.”

“Good. Short, I want you stationed at the Manor until further notice. Keep an eye on the skies, and on Drew.”

“Yessir. I’ll send you both a nightly report on his progress.”

Root and Vinyàya nodded and severed the connection. 

 

When Drew finally woke up it was a few minutes past one in the morning, and he was absolutely  _ ravenous _ . There had been nothing to eat on the plane, sadly, and after being emptied, his stomach felt as if it was eating itself from the inside out. He crawled out of the four-poster bed he’d been offered (which felt like it had never been used on more than one or two occasions), and crept over to the door.

He twisted the handle, expecting to see Juliet when he opened it, but the hallway was lifeless as the eyes in the paintings on the walls. Drew meandered down multiple halls and turns until he found the staircase down. Instinctively he knew that’s where the kitchen would be.

After all, he thought, who ever had a kitchen that wasn’t on the ground floor?

Drew crossed the main foyer, stomach guiding him the entire way. He rounded another corner and passed through an open double-doorway….

And came face-to-face with a walking hairball rooting through the fridge.

The creature was just barely shorter than Captain Short (Holly, he reminded himself), covered in bristling hairs. It was wearing some form of overalls and a flat hat. Its nails were essentially claws, and its hands were gripped around the refrigerator door. The remains of several sandwiches, salads and chicken carcasses were strewn at its feet, along with caviar slop and a fish skeleton. Drew stopped noiselessly, eyes wide in bewilderment, shock, and a pinch of fear.

What in the….?

Drew swallowed as the thing leaned its head out of the fridge. Its face was bearded with a thick tangle of hairs (inside which he swore he saw a grub worm wriggling around), and its mouth...a cavern of tombstone teeth. The creature grinned at him upon sight, clutching a soda can, and put a finger to his lips momentarily.

“Hey, kid,” said Mulch, for it could be none other, “You wanna see my Stitch impression?”

Drew grimaced in his half-awakened state, shaking his head fervently that  _ no, he did not want to see a dwarf’s impersonation of the alien protagonist from Lilo and Stitch. _

Mulch’s grin widened to fill his entire face. “‘S too bad….”

And then Mulch proceeded to perform his impersonation anyway. 

He slammed the refrigerator door with his back foot, put the whole unopened soda can in his mouth, curled up into a ball, and rolled his way past Drew into the main foyer and did not stop until he made his way down to the wine cellar and was miles deep into his his escape tunnel.

Drew stared after him for some time, utterly perplexed and still grimacing. It was five whole minutes before he turned back to the fridge, and decided that he wanted no part in whatever food was left in there.

He moaned pitifully, and went right back upstairs to bed, where he proceeded to re-think his entire life.

Again.


	4. A Place to Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew is SO not made for life as a rich kid. At least everyone’s pretty understanding and willing to let him do his own thing until he feels comfy. I think Juliet probably would have bought his new clothes for him (Is that possible? To headcanon my own fic?). Artemis catches Drew dancing, and they get to know each other a little bit. Drew is not at all what Arty suspected. (And SQUEE for the Butler family shooting bows together!!) 
> 
> Soundtrack 4: “Land of Eternal Winter” by Antti Martikainen.

The next morning, Drew decided it was time to freshen up. He stretched until every joint in his body popped, yawning, and he decided to explore around the room a bit more. The two bedside drawers were empty, he found, and the windows were bolted shut. Figures, he thought, they probably don’t want me to be able to run. Drew’s attention was caught by the closet, which boasted three doors, and hesitantly he pulled it open. Inexplicably, there were clothes inside that all looked to be exactly his size. 

There were shirts and plaid flannels, jeans and shorts, jackets, and a number of hoodies. Their designs were a clue that the person who had bought them only had an inkling of what normal teenagers wore, but luckily Drew was satisfied with plain colors and the odd assortment of logos.

He chose a pair of navy-blue jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a white-and-blue plaid shirt that he left unbuttoned and rolled up to his sleeves.  

He waltzed into one of three bathrooms, the closest of which being two doors down the hall from his room, and set his new outfit down on the counter. There was a large bathtub by the window, and a shower that looked like it had been designed by a science-fiction writer with a love for Renaissance art. The sink was pure white marble, and was laced with pale rose carvings, scented candles that had scarcely been lit, and vials full to the brim with colorful mystery fluids. The floor tiles were real terra-cotta, not the plastic sheet covering in Drew’s bathroom at home.

Why do rich people always have such weird showers? he thought.

Drew decided to use the shower anyway, which forced him to navigate through the veritable encyclopedia of soaps and skin conditioners until he found one he even remotely recognized. When he was finished, he dressed himself and headed downstairs.

Holly, Butler, and Juliet were sitting at the dining room table, all having completed their morning exercise routines hours before (Holly was wearing an olive-green tank top and black shorts, having changed out of her Section Eight uniform). They appeared to be just about done with the meal. Drew shyly hovered in the doorway, knocking on the frame. The odd group turned their heads at the sound, looking upon Drew with relief.

“‘Morning,” Drew said quietly, voice barely a whisper.

Juliet beamed. Butler nodded and said, “Now did you sleep well?”

“As well as can be expected. By the way, you guys  _ may _ not want to eat anything that came from the fridge today. ...Or for the next week or so.”

“Why’s that?”

Drew told them what he’d seen just hours before.

“D’arvit!” Holly said, slamming a hand on the table, “I knew it! I  _ knew  _ Mulch was still lurking around the Manor. It’s been so long since the last time we saw him, I didn’t even recognize his trademark pile of garbage.”

“Mulch?” Drew asked, raising an eyebrow which made him look very much like his father.

Butler put down his fork, no longer having any desire to eat. “He’s….a friend. A very special kind of friend that one often wishes wasn’t considered a friend because of their quirks or bodily functions. Mulch is one of the dwarves I mentioned to you on the plane. You know, the ones with the unsavory habits.”

“Ooooooh….that makes sense.”

“You don’t even know the half of it, Drew,” Holly said, shaking her head. “The war stories I could tell…. Just mind you keep a hand on your valuables at all times when he’s around.”

Butler sighed. “I guess I’m going to have to set the traps up again….”

Drew smiled sheepishly. “Well, seeing as nothing here is fit to eat, I think I’m just going to go nab something from the greenhouse and hope that Mulch didn’t get to that as well….if that’s alright.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Juliet smiled, “Help yourself.”

Drew crossed through the kitchen and slid open the glass door, letting the heat wave of growth wash over him. He shut the door behind him. It was like walking into a jungle, except the plants were arranged in groups based upon region, and then by alphabetical order. The thick, sweet smells flooded his nose, and Drew felt inexorably at peace.

He walked among the vegetation and ran his hands along the broad leaves and sturdy vines. The flowers winked at him and danced in his wake, their colors lighting up the confines of the greenhouse more vividly than the cool Irish sun streaming in. Drew didn’t know the names of more than a handful of these plants, but he felt a familiar bond with them all the same.

The draconic teen’s stomach growled, and not for the first time that morning, so he settled on a peach and a ripe, red tomato. His mother (no,  _ foster _ mother) wouldn’t approve of the flavor combination, but Drew realized as he took the first bite of the tomato that he didn’t have to care anymore.

_ Tomato and peach for breakfast _ , he thought with a smile,  _ screw you, mom _ .

When he was done he tossed the peach pit into a compost bin. Drew hopped around on the quartz stepping stones, wincing when he missed and his socked feet hit gravel. He did several laps around the arborium, eyes traveling up to the top to gaze at the patterns that the banana and palm trees made against the glass. A rush of indescribable happiness hit him as he passed by a red-lipped dracaena, and his subconscious realized that the “dragon plant” was essentially catnip for dragons. His conscious side, though, was just drunkenly delighted to exist in that point in time.

Drew laughed, skipping around, grinning. It hit him then, once more, that he was free of his old life. He decided that the moment needed some instrumental celtic music, and so he fished his mp3 out and began to listen.

The lilting of the violin and hammered dulcimer compelled him to dance. 

He imagined that the colorguard flag was in his hands, and as he moved he tossed its ghostly mirage up into the air and caught it. He grabbed hold of its imaginary end and used its momentum to twirl him around. A smile lit his face, and it wouldn’t let go. He leapt over a patch of moss, pirouetted, and incorporated a few choice moves from pop music videos. It was weird, it was free, and it was awesome.

This went on for several minutes. Just as the climax of the song began to wind down, with a jolt he realized there was a dark figure standing in front of the door. 

Drew jumped, dancing immediately abandoned. His heart rate leapt about ten beats per minute and then settled back down in the next instant. His face was already flushed from the heat of the greenhouse and his own activity, so the Fowl heir couldn’t see him blush in humiliation.

“Uh-Artemis, hey,” he stammered, panting, as he ripped the buds out of his ears, “Good morning….ah….”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Druvidian. You’re a splendid dancer,” Artemis said serenely, eyes and lips hinting at a smile.

The taller boy itched the back of his neck nervously. “Ah...thanks.”

He still stood there like a deer in headlights, so Artemis said, “Not to worry, I’m the only one who noticed. I won’t talk about it to the others. It’s as good as forgotten.”

Drew sighed, ears still burning, “Okay...yeah, good….thanks. So, uh....what’s up?”

“I’ve come to ask you if you’d like a tour around the house and the grounds. It seems you’ve already mapped out where the kitchen, bathrooms, and greenhouse are, so you’re welcome to the rest. I figured you might enjoy some time outside first, so you can cool down.”

“Sure.” He shut off his music, and they exited through the external doors.

 

“Okay,” Holly said, hiding her mouth behind one hand and watching as the two boys left the greenhouse, “that was actually adorable.”

Butler’s lip perked up in a way that may or may not have been a smile.

 

The first thing Artemis did was take Drew on a patrol around the inside of the ancient stone wall that encircled the grounds. 

His gait was controlled, smooth, and relaxed, while his blond peer was a bit anxious. The morning dew disagreed with his loafers, so after one lap they retreated up to the manicured lawns of the garden. Drew marveled at the lavish roses, peonies, and lavender, and the lilies that drooped over the pond and whose petal shapes reminded him of the word  _ liquid _ . Artemis told him of the origins of some of these plants, how his mother had come by them, what their significance was. Drew listened silently, albeit intently, to every word. It was like walking with a teenage version of Butler, their temperament was so alike.

During this walk there was little personal conversation. Drew was still not comfortable enough to divulge private information, and Artemis never really had been in the first place, so they kept topics restricted to either history or science. They stopped every once in a while so that Drew could take in the scents of different plants, as Holly often did. As much as he was a Butler, he was also a fairy.

The draconic teen violated the terms of subject matter when he finally said, “So, do you have parents, Artemis? Or is it just you and Juliet and...and my dad?”

That was the first time Drew had referred to Butler directly as his father figure, Artemis realized. He’s trying out the words.

“No, I assure you, my parents are very much alive and well. Currently they are on holiday in Finland with my twin brothers Myles and Beckett.”

“You have brothers? How old are they?”

“Five, as of two months ago.”

Drew looked at him quizzically. “Are they….Don’t take this the wrong way, but are they, you know...like you?”

Artemis’s eyes smiled playfully. “It’s quite alright, I understand what you mean. Yes, Myles is very much a mirror of my personality and style, but Beckett shows a consistent dislike of all things sophisticated and realistic. He prefers to run around and eat mud pies with bugs, and often spew profanities while he’s at it, much to the dismay of everyone in the house. I love them both dearly, though.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Drew admitted, “but my sisters aren’t the kind of people I wish I could say that about, if you catch my meaning.”

“I do. In fact--I hope you don’t mind--I took the liberty of researching your siblings by means of accessing their therapists’ notes. What I found would obviously not be a shock to you in any way, but it does provide a bit of insight into...well, you.”

Drew lowered his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Shall we venture inside?” asked Artemis, sensing he’d crossed a line. He motioned to the front door, which they’d conveniently arrived at.

“Yeah.”

 

They then commenced the grand tour of the Manor itself, Artemis going into painstaking detail about the various art pieces, rugs, and other forms of decor. Drew lapped all of it up with his quiet interest, knowing that he might not remember even a third of it but enjoying it all the same. It was helping him to become more accustomed to the house, knowing where and what everything was.

There was an ancient Egyptian urn here, a set of medieval armor there, or some rug from the Middle-East. This painting was from a famous painter Drew had never heard of, and that one was of some ancestor to the Fowl family. There were entire bookcases full of centuries-old manuscripts from long-dead scholars and adventurers. There were also tapestries and glass cases that featured artifacts from archaeological digs or shipwrecks (and there was even a ship in a bottle that bore perfect resemblance to a vessel that Artemis’s great-great-something-or-other had captained). 

He even showed off the wine cellar, which Drew was not interested in in the slightest, because he apparently did not intend to ever consume alcohol, nor did he see the point of it.

Artemis took the hours-long opportunity to pour out the massive contents of information his brain had stored on the subjects, because rarely did he ever meet someone who didn’t already know, or cared enough to know. 

Drew would lean in (often too close for his comfort) every once in a while to marvel at the intricacy of an artifact, and Artemis would catch himself cringing and holding his breath. Each time he paused the world for a few seconds to complete a mental calming exercise and pray to the particular deity depicted on the artifact that his life might be spared, should Drew accidentally break it.

After about the twentieth time of him seizing, Drew finally spoke up.

“Dude, Artemis, relax. I’m not going to touch your stuff,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender, “I know it’s expensive, believe me, I’d want to die if I broke anything.”

“Oh,” Artemis sighed, putting a hand to his abdomen.

“Yeah, trust me, I hate to even breathe in this house. Just looking at my bedsheets made me queasy. I won’t touch anything that looks even remotely ancient, or breakable, or expensive. Promise.”  _ Because I definitely don’t want to end up indentured to a rich boy like Haruhi from Ouran Highschool Host Club, _ Drew thought.

“I see. Very well, we’ll continue on.”

And continue on they did.

As they walked along the railing of the second floor, Artemis inquired, “I understand that you’re having to adjust to life in a more luxurious atmosphere, but one would think that you might relish the transition from the style of your old life. I am sensing that your discomfort is caused by more than a change of class, is that correct?”

Drew puckered his mouth off to one side.

“...yeah.”

“Might I inquire as to what the problem is?”

“Artemis, I really don’t want to talk about it,” Drew said, turning his head away, “okay?”

The Irish boy was clearly not taking any hints. “It’s a simple explanation, that’s all I ask. I merely want to understand why you are so uncomfortable in my home, when everything inside of it is meant to cater to your every nee-”

“ _ Artemis! _ ”

The shorter boy stopped in mid-word, taken aback.

“Look….” Drew sighed, turning to face him, “What you need to understand is that my childhood was a literal  _ nightmare _ . For years I was conditioned to believe that I am not worth the dirt on anyone’s shoes. That I am not important enough to be given or handed anything. Hell, I don’t even like being handed my own food at Ihop. I don’t have a notable sense of self-worth whatsoever, so being in a place like this” he gestured around “is just...it’s too  _ much _ . It feels wrong. In any other circumstance, I wouldn’t belong in a house like this unless I was hired help. Bottom tier. I know I don’t fit here, and it’s painstakingly obvious, and I know you guys are doing your best to help me feel welcome, but it’s just going to take time. I’m not used to having so many strange people care about me unconditionally like this. Do you understand?”

Artemis stared emotionlessly into Drew’s eyes for the better part of two minutes. Drew could see the gears working in his head, so he waited patiently. Artemis, meanwhile, fought to connect the emotional dots.

He had never experienced something like this before, and so had no basis to compare with what Drew was going through. But he knew his peer was distressed, and if he agitated the situation, it would put him at odds with Butler.

So he said, “I...I suppose I do, yes. I will...be patient...and allow you the time you need to find your place within the household. That is what you desire?”

Drew let out a relieved breath through his nose.

“Yes. Thank you.”

 

Lunch commenced shortly, and Butler announced that in light of Mulch’s unsanitary raid it would be a vegetarian meal, all organic, taken straight from the greenhouse, which had been declared safe. Holly praised the chef for his choice of ingredients; fruit salad was the main course, coupled with roasted nuts and coconut. Drew was finished first, and sat awkwardly through most of the meal with nothing on his plate and nothing to say. But questions soon came to him.

“So, Artemis….Holly….if it’s not too personal, why is it that you two appear to have...switched eyes?”

Holly finished a bite.

“Well...a few years ago, me and Artemis traveled through a time-space vortex to rescue the demon island of Hybras from destruction in Limbo and stop their leader, Leon Abbot, from starting a war on humanity. The vortex’s magic switched our eyes.” Drew’s eyes perked in interest. She didn’t see a point in keeping secrets from Butler’s son, so she continued, “However, in Limbo, time is pretty fluid. By that I mean nonexistent. So to us, the battle felt like a number of minutes, but in reality we were gone for three years.”

“So,” Drew said, looking to Artemis, “are you technically  _ older _ than me?”

“In technicality, I suppose. I was born two and a half years before you, but due to the time skip I am still sixteen at this point. In terms of actual time lived, you are older than I am. Technically.”

“Huh.”

Drew heard whispers from the opposite side of the table, eyes darting up to see Juliet lean away from her brother’s shoulder. She caught his eye, and asked, “Drew, sweetie, why don’t you tell us a bit about  _ you? _ ”

Suddenly he was a deer in headlights. “Uh...well, I mean you guys already know quite a bit about me, I take it.”

Human and fairy alike (or not so alike) turned to him. Drew swallowed uncomfortably, always having feared this part of the holidays when family conversation turned to him. But after a moment he realized, once again, that this was not his old family. This was a table full of people that cared about his well-being unconditionally, whereas the Rileys had been a pack of close-minded folk whose tagline was  _ why can’t things just go back to the way they used to be? _

But these people? The Butlers, the Fowls, and the fairies? They were used to a world where nothing made sense, and that was okay just as long as it wasn’t trying to kill them.

“Well, what do you like to do? What are your interests? Anything exciting?” Juliet probed, resting her pretty head on one hand.

Drew smiled shyly.

“Well...I do a lot of artistic stuff: drawing, painting, inks. I also write books.”

“Oh? What about?”

“Coincidentally enough…” Drew paused to take a self-reflecting breath. “...dragons. I was also on the Colorguard team. We went to state competitions twice in a row. And I was the high Councilman of my school’s Nerd Society club.”

“‘Nerd Society’?” Artemis scoffed, rifling through his fruit salad with a fork.

Drew sent his peer a sassy look. “Oh, trust me, Artemis, you’d fit  _ right in _ . Bunch of awkward, pasty teens who get together every Wednesday to play videogames and rant about their passions? That’s your crowd just as much as mine, just a little less sophisticated than your tastes will permit.”

Butler chuckled at his son’s perceptiveness. Artemis drew an offended hand up to his chest, staring indignantly at his bodyguard.

“Butler, I’m absolutely stung. You’ve betrayed me!”

“Are you serious? Drew’s been here all of two days, talked to you all of one, and he’s already got you figured out.”

Then they noticed Holly, who had been silently cackling since the end of Drew’s observation. She wiped literal tears from her eyes, one by one. Still giggling, she said, “Oh, Drew, you are pure  _ gold _ .” She looked up at Butler. “Can we keep him?”

Drew grinned victoriously, crossing his arms with exaggerated motions.

Artemis looked around at the rest of his company with narrowed eyes. “Honestly! Which of my previous selves determined it acceptable to invite you disrespectful  _ commoners _ into my house? I want his age, so I can travel back through the time vortex and have Butler strangle him for me.”

“That would require me to fight myself to get to you,” Butler reminded him plainly, “in which case I would win, either way.”

“Not if I join in,” Juliet shot back, smirking. “As soon as the Jade Princess turns up to the fight, it’s over.”

Drew was doubled over with stifled giggles at that point, joining Holly in the metaphorical tears department. The others looked at him endearingly (though Artemis had resigned himself to mild sulking).  _ Okay, it’s official _ , Drew thought, grinning at his newfound family,  _ I love these people _ .

“Anyway....” Juliet resumed, sending a playful jab of the elbow in Butler’s direction, “Did you have any friends at school?”

He hesitated. “I  _ did _ , yeah. Loads.”

“You don’t....sound to upset about having to leave them behind, if I’m honest,” Holly said.

Drew shrugged. “Let me put it this way; I’ve seen plenty enough movies with abduction scenarios or kids who gain powers and have to run from their old lives to know how this all goes down. I know that if I go back to visit my friends or try to contact them, someone’s going to get dead or get hurt. Believe me, I learned my lesson on the plane. Sure, I miss them so bad it kind of hurts, and I know it may be a long time before I see any of them again, if at all, but being a poor, sad, homesick kid isn’t reason enough to put them all in danger if Knighthood decides to use them against me. I’d much rather them be safe. And anyway, how am I supposed to explain that my house was shot up by goblins and I disappeared off to Ireland with my real father?”

Butler nodded in understanding. 

“I see,” Juliet agreed with a sympathetic smile. “Well, is there anything else you like to do? Anything you might be interested in during your stay at Fowl Manor?”

Drew thought. “I was also on my school’s Archery team for three years. We went to a ton of competitions, including the World Tournament, when it was held in Saint Louis.”

“That’s definitely a hereditary thing. Both your aunt and I have logged hundreds of hours in the Manor’s archery range,” Butler said.

Drew’s eyes lit up. “You guys have...an  _ archery range? _ ”

Butler nodded. “It’s in the basement of the dojo.”

The draconic teen shot to a stand, slamming his hands on the table.

“Sign. Me. The  _ hell. Up. _ ”

 

Once lunch was over with, the Butler family headed down to the dojo in the north-most corner of the Manor. Drew gazed upon the archery range with delight, eager to shoot. There were compound bows, longbows, recurves, and hi-tech hunting bows. He chose the unimpressive black 20-pound compound bow, as it was the lightest of their selection and the heaviest he could handle, while Juliet chose the carbon graphite recurve bow she was so fond of (which the Berserker Bellico had taken advantage of during the last battle with Opal Koboi) and Butler wielded a bow what’s draw weight must have been somewhere in the multiple-hundreds range.

“What distance do you usually shoot at?” Juliet asked.

“Either ten or fifteen yards,” Drew admitted, knowing that his skills were far outmatched here.

“Have you ever tried at, say, forty?”

He shook his head no.

Butler motioned downrange. “Well, give it a go. Don’t worry about accidentally skimming the ground or the ceiling - Artemis has done plenty of that in the times I’ve tried to teach him.”

Drew grinned skeptically. “Hard to imagine him even picking up a bow, much less trying to pull back the string.”

“It’s a sad sight to behold.”

The youngest Butler giggled as he headed downrange to the 40-meter marker. He plucked a quiver of ten arrows off the fence and tossed it over his shoulder. Drew stood perpendicular to the target of his choice, feet shoulder-width apart. His eyesight was slightly below-average, so the colored rings blurred together at the edges.

His usual aiming point at fifteen meters was exactly level with the bullseye, but a few inches down. And, of course, that was with a different bow. At this distance, he would have to aim a few feet above the target.

Drew put the cam to his hip, drawing and knocking an arrow on the bowstring. In the corner of his eye he saw Butler and Juliet move to stand parallel to him, the former leaning on the fence and the latter crossing her arms. They were assessing his technique. Drew felt his heart rate flutter with the increase in pressure, and decided not to look over.

He raised the bow, pulling back the string until his index finger rested at the corner of his mouth and his elbow was pointed as high and as far back as it could go. His nose brushed against the string. He rotated his elbow out, on instinct, and guided the arrowhead to his chosen aiming point. He breathed in deep for one second and let the air out steady through his lips for five seconds. At the end of that five seconds, he loosed the string and let the bow tilt back in his left hand.

Half a second later, the arrow sank into the target squarely in the middle of the yellow nine-point ring. Sheer luck, he guessed. The sound of impact echoed crisply off the walls.

Drew assessed his shot, and calculated that he should lower his aiming point an inch or so. The next arrow thunked level with the bullseye, but inches off to the left. He’d flinched. He tried again, and the rest of his arrows all hit their mark near to the center of the target.

Juliet cheered for him enthusiastically. Drew racked his bow on the fence, and walked downrange to retrieve his arrows. He sheathed the projectiles in his quiver and headed back.

“How’d I do?” he asked eagerly.

Butler nodded. “Excellent, for your first go,” he said sagely, the gravelly bass of his voice echoing downrange. “You don’t close either of your eyes when you shoot?”

“Never have.”

That’s because you got it from me, Butler thought. But he said nothing in response.

The three Butlers spent the rest of the afternoon in the range, side-by-side. It was a bonding experience, and an easy one. There was no talking: just the calm stillness of the air, the sound of arrows in their arc, and the simultaneous twang of bowstrings and thunk of target impact. They became comfortable in each other’s company (except for Drew, somewhat, whose brain finally decided to catch up with the moment to realize  _ oh my god I’m doing archery right next to the Jade Princess oh my god _ ). But this distraction never deterred him from shooting near-perfect scores, much to his satisfaction. At least he didn’t look like a total amateur next to his expert relatives.

At six o’clock, they decided to call it quits, and headed upstairs so that Butler could prepare dinner.

(This is SO not my anchor point when I shoot, btw. Your fingers are supposed to be on the corner of your mouth, so the tip of your nose touches the string. Coach Gronborg would throttle me if he saw the inaccuracies of this drawing hehehehe)


	5. Dear Dysphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m not going to lie, it would be REALLY INTIMIDATING to have Butler as a dad. Especially as a trans dude (because he’s just so obviously masculine by comparison, ya know?). But I think this is how he’d react to having a trans son. Or at least, I hope. And Arty has a surprise for Drew! 
> 
> Soundtrack 5: “Up All Night” by Owl City.

A week passed since Drew’s arrival at Fowl Manor. He’d gotten used to everyone’s routines, including Artemis, who had scolded him for interrupting a meditation session. Every meal was something new, accompanied by stories of past adventures and world-saving shenanigans, and after each, Drew would offer to help his father with the dishes (mostly so that he could feel useful). Early one morning, Butler and Juliet demonstrated their fighting skills for him as he sat in the corner of the dojo in a hoodie-shaped ball, eyes darting around in thrill. They tried to get him to join in, or at least attempt some of the more basic moves, but he declined. He and Juliet spent many hours sharing their music back and forth, blaring it through her speakers (at the expense of Artemis’s patience). Holly showed Drew the functions of her Section Eight gear, and, to test if his abilities were developing, they played a game of “guess where the shielded elf is.” She also took some time to tell him about the culture in Haven and Atlantis, so that he might better blend into fairy society in the future. Artemis talked theology with Drew, sharing back and forth ideas about humanity and life in general.

And the Fowl heir was delighted to witness the unwitting effect Drew had on his father. 

The boy kept Butler grounded, kept him focused on simple issues in the stead of world-threatening chaos. He was a positive presence in the household, and Butler was all the better for it. There was a notable uplift in his spirits daily. His physical ailments seemed a smaller and smaller obstacle (and Artemis intended to thank Drew for it sincerely).

Needless to say, everyone very much fell in love with the sweet, timid dragon now in their care.

His powers hadn’t developed yet, that much was for certain. Holly took regular scans of him, and all of them turned up regrettably negative for draconic traces. Her reports to the Commanders were filled with details of Drew’s emotional and psychological recoveries, but no more. The Council (with a great deal of influence from its only female member) had grudgingly allowed his stay at Fowl Manor, but only because they feared the giant man that had fathered him.

Drew found himself slowly learning to forget his depression and anxieties. No longer was he forced to “coexist” with people that told him all of his ideas were wrong and shameful. No longer did he have to dread human contact. No longer was he disgusted by the thought of himself and his gender: not once had anyone at Fowl Manor ever used the wrong pronoun in reference to him. His life, now, could be loosely likened to nirvanah.

At least, until the end of the week rolled around.

 

It was well past eleven in the morning when it hit Butler that he hadn’t seen any sign of Drew. He hadn’t been present at breakfast, or made himself known since. Some sixth sense that only a bodyguard possesses told him that something was very, very wrong.

He barged into the dojo, where Holly had Juliet in a choke hold.

“Have either of you seen Drew?” he demanded.

The tone of his voice made them both stop immediately. 

“No,” Holly said, “now that I think about it, I haven’t. Why?”

Butler didn’t reply. He stormed out of the dojo and raced up to Artemis’s study. But the Irish boy confessed that he, too, had seen nothing of Drew that morning.

The giant manservant proceeded to charge through the halls of the Manor, busting open door after door in a vain search. His room was the foremost and most obvious place to look, but it yielded nothing. He wasn’t in the archery range. Or the bathroom. Or the kitchen….

Butler felt a sense of dread crawling up his spine.

_ Oh, gods…  _ he thought, _ Tell me Knighthood hasn’t taken him….. _

“ **_Drew!_ ** ” he shouted, racing down the stairs.

Such exertive action, combined with the panic of potentially losing yet another child he was supposed to protect, was a challenge slightly too much for his heart to bear. His chest burned like the fires of hell, and he had to stop at the bottom landing to brace himself on the ornate railing. He winced, eyes still doing the legwork for him. 

_ Where  _ **_was_ ** _ he? _

Then an idea struck him - the greenhouse. 

Butler crossed the foyer in three strides, the kitchen in two, and if the sliding glass doors hadn’t been automatic, he would have crashed right through them without hesitation. His form burst into the arborium. Almost collided with a blueberry bush.

Frantically his eyes scanned the room. Immediately they settled on Drew, who was sitting cross-legged on the stone wall that encircled a group of dragon plants. His unblinking eyes were glazed over, shaded, eyebrows furrowed with an internal ache. And he wasn’t listening to music. Just staring into the opposite side of the greenhouse. Not even the  _ dracaenas _ had any noticeable effect on his mood.

Butler held a hand to his chest, relief lifting the burn from his heart. He took a moment to mellow out the rhythm of his breathing before he announced himself.

“Drew?”

The boy blinked, but said nothing in response. 

The giant manservant approached his son cautiously, tilting his head around so he could get a better look at his face. “Are you alright?” he rumbled.

Drew reluctantly rotated his head to look. The expression he gave was a dead one. His head moved just barely a centimeter in either direction, but he was definitely shaking  _ no _ .

“What’s the matter?”

The draconic teen turned away again. “...I don’t want to talk about it. That’s why I’m in  _ here _ .”

But the hesitation in his voice told another story - he  _ did _ want to talk about it, and very much so, but he wasn’t quite comfortable enough to share what he had to say with anyone currently in the Manor. It was all in the body language - shoulders hunched, hands held close, avoidance of eye contact.

He’s scared to open up to his father, Butler thought, but why? 

“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?”

Drew took a long breath. “It’s not that I….I just...I don’t know if you’d understand, if I told you. It didn’t go over so well, the last time I tried to...tell my dad.”

“I’m not Thomas Riley.”

The teenage dragon sighed. “I know.”

Butler came over to stand next to him. He made it up in his mind that he wasn’t going to go away until Drew had said all he needed to. Drew looked up at him, eyes begging for understanding.

“Okay...uh…” He swallowed. “D-dad. The thing you need to understand about me first is that...I’m transgender, an-”

Butler didn’t skip a beat. “I know.”

The implications of that statement hit Drew like a ton of bricks. He started, head rearing back. 

“Wh...what do you mean, you know?  _ How? _ ” he demanded skeptically.

The elder Butler sat down. “That was one of the first things I was told about you, Drew. I knew right from the very beginning. And even if I hadn’t,” -he looked off into space cryptically- “I’d know the look of a binder anywhere.” (The voice was also a dead giveaway, but he knew it would have been indecent to say so.)

Drew’s hand came up to fiddle with the neckline of his binder self-consciously. That last line sounded sketchy, but the relief he felt overpowered the mental notion. He decided not to ask where or how his father had learned to recognize the shape of a bound torso.

“Oh.... So...you don’t care? I mean, you don’t mind?”

Butler sighed. “Drew, let’s just say that I’ve fought too many men and women to care about the difference. And, in the grand scheme of all things, there isn’t much of a difference that matters.” A heavy pause followed. “So...you’re having a dysphoria issue. You came in here because you felt insecure and you didn’t want us to question you about it.”

Drew nodded. He hadn’t expected his father to be so knowledgeable about any of his struggle with gender. Few of Butler’s generation ever were.

In reality, the giant Eurasian wanted nothing more than to take Drew’s old identity and rip it apart on the battlefield. He knew all too well what the cost of a tortured soul’s rejection was, for a child to have their parents deny cold, hard fact because they were too self-absorbed or too frightened to accept change. But one cannot physically fight that which does not do battle on the sentient level, and so all he could do was offer counsel.

“I’ve heard others’ descriptions of the horror of it, and I can’t say I’m envious,” said Butler, “What’s it like for you?”

Drew took a moment to formulate his answer into something that would make sense to the everyday individual.

“Well...every wave starts off slow. Sometimes they’re a different sensation, so I don’t even notice they’re here until they hit in full force. But...it’s like I wake up, and suddenly I can’t stand to look at myself. Every part of my body is disgusting, it doesn’t match, and I’m just an amalgamation of anatomy. Looking down at my chest is a slap in the face. I’ve been wearing two binders at once because one just doesn’t cut it anymore. I want to throw up every time I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror, because I know I still look feminine.” He touched his throat. “A part of me dies each time I hear myself speak. I know what I sound like, and it crushes me because I know that other people know what I am. What I used to be. I can’t stand to go out in public. And that’s why it’s been a kind of heaven, living here. None of you ever once questioned me. I’ve never had to deal with that agony of being called a girl, of having my dead name shoved down my throat because ‘ _ I should be grateful for the name I was given at birth _ .’”

Butler closed his eyes.  _ Oh, you poor boy _ ….

“And so you didn’t want to tell me because you were afraid I’d react like the Rileys? Treat you like a joke?”

“...Yeah,” he replied, voice barely a whisper. Drew turned his head away, and Butler knew immediately that he was starting to cry.

“Drew,” he said quietly. No response. “Druvidian, look at me.”

The draconic teen wiped his face with the excessive sleeve material of his hoodie, and met his father’s eyes with a lip that refused, embarrassingly, to sit still. Butler laid a giant hand on his shoulder, leaning down to meet his eye level. The defiance in his icy irises was captivating.

“Drew,” he said slowly, enunciating every word, “The only thing that matters to me is what  _ you know _ you are. Literally everything else is irrelevant. It will always be irrelevant. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded, biting his lip. Butler wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in close. Comforting was the support provided by his steel frame. All apprehensions and inhibitions Drew had melted away, and he finally had the strength to ask:

“Do you know what my dead name is?”

“No.”

“Would you use it, if you knew?”

“Never,” Butler said, matter-of-fact. “And if I did, I would never forgive myself for it.”

Drew nodded his head in acknowledgement. He decided to probe on another, more sensitive subject. “And...are you going to make me wait until I’m eighteen to have the surgeries? Or hormone therapy?”

Butler looked down, thoughtfully, at the same time Drew looked up. 

“How does the phrase ‘ _ as soon as physically possible _ ’ sound to you?” He smiled warmly.

Realization lit Drew’s eyes up like fireworks on the Chinese New Year. He recoiled, drawing up a hand.

“Wait, are you serious? You’re not kidding?”

His father shook his head serenely. At least, as serenely as a steel-faced giant can. 

“Deadly serious. I’ve already talked it over with some acquaintances in the fairy realm - as soon as we can get you belowground for a consultation, it’s a done deal.”

“ **_YES!!!_ ** ” Drew screeched, jumping up. A grin split his face from ear to ear. “ **_Oh my god, yes!!!_ ** ”

The draconic teen leapt onto his father’s shoulder, just barely hooking his fingers around the other side of his torso. “ _ Thank you thank you thank you so much, Dad, I love you....thank you....” _ he droned into the material of Butler’s suit.

Butler chuckled. “I love you too.”

 

Lunch, which came soon after, was quiet. Rather, Drew was quiet. His voice was seldom added to the conversation. The others filled in the space he left behind, respectfully refraining from encouraging him to speak. Artemis was only present for the first few minutes, and then excused himself halfway through for some mystery reason.

As soon as Drew finished his last bite, there was a knock on the open kitchen door.

“Druvidian?” Artemis said. “Would you mind following me? I have something to show you.”

Drew looked to Butler for a sign, but there was none to be found. 

“Uh….sure.”

The draconic teen pushed his chair in gently and complied, shuffling into step behind his ghostlike peer. Artemis led him up the staircase and down the hall.

They stopped in front of a door which Drew, somehow, had not encountered before. Artemis turned stiffly and faced his bodyguard’s son.

“I have given some considerable thought, over the past week, about what you said during your first meal with the rest of the household, and during the days since,” he began. “I have to say I underestimated you. I expected you be far less articulate, as most in our age category are, but I have come to see the error of my ways. You have proven me to be woefully wrong in my assumptions. You are, after all, your father’s son.” He nodded.

“It’s okay….” Drew said, shaking his head dismissively.

“No,” he said firmly. “No, Druvidian, _it_ is most definitely _not_ _okay_. You’ve been conditioned by your adoptive relatives to muddle through humiliation for the sake of their comfort, for fear of inciting angered retaliation, and I will not let you do that any longer. Before we first were acquainted, I had suspected you to be a lazy, stupid, undeserving fool. I am ashamed of myself for such assumptions. I am sorry.”

And the look in his eyes was one that came straight from the soul.

Drew’s head rose with his eyelids. He found himself immediately humbled, having never expected this from the dark, reserved lord of the house.

“I...I’m not sure what to say to that, other than ‘thank you,’” he stammered.

Artemis raised a hand. “Nothing of the sort is necessary. As a solemn demonstration of my resolve to think better of you, I arranged something with my American... _ associate _ , Alex.” He gestured to the door. “See for yourself.”

Drew’s eyes flicked back and forth between his peer and the door. Cautiously he turned the carved brass handle, gave a light push, and entered into a world full of his past.

Literally.

The room had been painstakingly (probably painfully, in Artemis’s case) been stripped of its complexity and expensive charm, and in its place, from floor to ceiling, were all of the posters and pictures from Drew’s old room at the Riley house. His belongings had been aligned on new shelves, all exactly as they had been, and his own bed was put in place of the four-poster that came before it. All of his clothing was arranged on hangers in the open closet, right down to the old leather jacket and a pair of shorts he hadn’t worn in three years. The Colorguard flagpole was propped up in the corner, new silk draping from its side. His artwork, perfectly preserved, was leaned up against the back wall, and his supplies were stored in a giant wooden chest from the viking era (a confessed favorite artifact of Drew’s). His old phone, his game systems, his drawing tablet and corresponding pen, and even his alarm clock were present. His laptop was gleaming atop the black comforter, resting beside not one but  _ seven  _ new binders, ordered first-class from the same company that manufactured his first two. Everything Drew had ever owned was here. Shipped overseas at some ridiculous rate, probably, but it was here nonetheless.

He didn’t even walk around his new paradise. 

He just...stood there.

Drew’s mouth slowly fell open, and his eyebrows furrowed in a way that made him look sad. His head slowly turned to take in the sight of it all. The place even  _ smelled  _ like his old room.

The draconic teen drew a shaking hand up to his mouth and finally dared to enter the dream. His steps were uneasy, as if the ground might drop out from underneath him. He touched the bedsheets with apprehension, knowing at once that they were his. It was all real. All here.

“H...how did you...?”

“Your family...that is to say, the  _ Riley  _ family, was going to dispose of it all, as I suspected,” Artemis said, hands clasped behind his back. “They had no plans to ever seek you out, I’m very sorry to say. I reached out to Alex to retrieve it all before it could be destroyed.”

Drew looked like he was about to cry. “You even got my artwork…. Oh my god, you got  _ all of it _ …. You even brought my Pokémon cards….”

Then the binders on the bed caught his attention. He stopped.

“Wait, those are...binders?” He turned around to face Artemis. “How did you know…?”

The Irish boy took a breath that expanded his entire frame. As if he was contemplating something troubling. Without a word, in an act of totally uncharacteristic boldness, he began to fiddle actively with the buttons of his suit. 

Drew started, confused.

His first reaction would have been to recoil and demand to know what was going on, but he stamped it down and decided to give Artemis the benefit of the doubt. There was no aura of danger here. He waited patiently.

And he watched as Artemis pulled open his undershirt to reveal two perfectly-healed surgical scars on his chest.

“Oh, it’s _you…_ You’re the one Dad was talking about. That’s how he knows what a binder looks like, isn’t it?” Drew breathed.

The Fowl heir nodded his head once. “Your father has known me since the day I was born. He was the first I entrusted my identity to, my  _ true  _ identity, and not once has he ever betrayed that trust. When my parents initially rejected me, Butler was the only one I dared turn to for solace. It wasn’t until years later that I was finally allowed to become this. With the help of my fairy friends, of course.”

He buttoned his clothing back up and adjusted his tie so that it fit more snugly around his neck.

“You and I are more alike than I anticipated,” Artemis continued. “In another lifetime, we might have been siblings. If that had been the case...I think I would be proud to call you my brother, Druvidian.”

And at the end of that statement, Drew looked fit to burst.

“Can I hug you?” he asked, just barely containing himself.

Artemis sighed. “Just this once, I supp-”

But he didn’t even get the chance to finish the statement before Drew was latched around him. The taller boy gripped him like a vice, as if his life depended upon it, but at the same time he was gentle. Curious, Artemis thought, to be held like something so breakable and yet so powerful at once. His rice paper hands came to rest around Drew’s back, and he realized that this was one of the few times that physical contact did not disturb him.

“ _ Thank you, _ ” Drew whispered, and then released him as if nothing had ever happened.

Artemis swallowed, resuming his usual composure. 

“You are welcome. Always.”

Down the hallway, unseen in the shadow of a Medieval suit of armor, Butler grinned with pride like he hadn’t in decades.

 

“How is Druvidian doing?” Vinyàya asked. “Has he made any progress whatsoever in the past week?” Her tone was neutral, but there was an undertone of exasperation. 

“Emotionally and psychologically, he has made huge strides,” Artemis announced proudly, “But I fail to see how this short passage of time would change him. Have any of the chip bag messages, though I loathe to continue referring to them as such, revealed any clues as to how dragons’ powers actually manifest?”

It had now been two weeks since Drew’s induction into the household, and still he remained human for all intents and purposes. The Council was now demanding some kind of physical proof that Drew even  _ was  _ a dragon, other than the genetic component. Apparently they were “holding off the announcement that dragons were no longer extinct until they had hard proof. Facts.” (An exact quote, which had been accentuated by a fist slammed onto a desk.)

Foaly opened up a file on screen.

“Not Knighthood’s messages, no, but there is some rumor in the records. Let me see…. Apparently, dragons’ abilities are a reaction to conditions of extreme duress or life-threatening capacity. Their powers don’t really manifest until the world becomes aware of their existence and attempts to snuff out said existence. There’s a little bit at the end that hints at the possibility of having powers develop immediately after birth, but it doesn’t sound too solid.”

“So you’re saying that Drew won’t transform until he’s been in a life situation,” Holly said, talking with her hands, “which doesn’t make sense because he was already technically in two.”

Artemis reminded, “The article refers to experiencing extreme levels of stress, which could be of any quantity. Now, let’s think about that for a minute. If we take into consideration Drew’s childhood - all of the abuse, psychological, physical, and whatnot - it becomes a possibility that he has developed a sort of tolerance to stressful situations. That isn’t to say that he isn’t affected by them, because he clearly is, but the internal damage may be dulled by past experiences.”

“You’re not exactly one to judge emotional character, Artemis,” Juliet said humorously. “But it’s plausible, at best. He’s a Butler. We’re pretty well-known for our durability.”

“True.” The Fowl heir tilted his head. “Which begs another question - how much physical and mental trauma would it theoretically take for Druvidian’s abilities to become necessary?”

“Woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here Mud Boy,” Holly said, rising to a stand.

Root finally spoke up. “Agreed. Forgive me, Wing Commander, but to hell what the Council wants - we’re still dealing with a child. We’re not about to throw him into a life-and-death situation and traumatise him beyond repair just to get some results. He’s safe where he is, and we’re going to keep it that way.”

“But let us not be so naive as to assume that Drew is one-hundred-percent safe, or that he will be indefinitely,” Artemis retorted, pointing a finger upwards. “Rumors will undoubtedly have begun to spread about the renewed existence of dragons. Even a second of eavesdropping outside one of your supposedly-soundproof rooms could potentially ignite a swarm of whispers. Whispers which, also undoubtedly, will pass through the ranks and into civilian life. Some of those civilians will be goblins. And since the People seem to have found no way to determine  _ which  _ goblins are employed with Knighthood, we have no choice to assume that any day now the Manor could be compromised. Knighthood is relentless. They will not rest now that they know Druvidian is real.”

“Then it’s settled. We’re bringing Drew belowground as soon as possible,” Root officiated with a terse nod.

Butler was unconvinced.

His bodyguard instincts were screaming at him to get Drew out of potential harm’s way, but for whatever reason he fought against them. He was starting to think as a father rather than as a bodyguard because, well, he  _ wasn’t _ a bodyguard. Not with regards to Drew. Despite decades of training to suppress emotional influences, his primary concern was his son’s mental well-being over physical safety.

“I don’t know, Commander…. With all due respect, Drew is still a teenager. And he’s not Artemis. He’s shy and still adjusting to life at the Manor. I don’t know if I want to rip him away from what stability he’s gained and force him to re-align again.”

“Butler,” Holly said, “Are you sure about this? It isn’t like you take that kind of chance with a person’s safety.”

Commander Root sighed. Heavily. 

“You do realize what you’re risking, don’t you?”

Butler faced the camera with steel in his eyes. “I do. But as with all things, I’m going to let this be Drew’s choice, and Drew’s alone. He’s been given far too little choice, in his past.”

“Should Knighthood catch wind of your son’s whereabouts, there will be no warning,” Vinyàya said ominously. “They will come for all of you, relentlessly, and none of you are all-powerful. That being said, I also want to keep in mind the safety of my own operative.” She addressed Holly, “Captain Short, are you willing to stay above ground to see that Druvidian remains safe, or do you wish to return to Haven? We can send another in your place. But Commander Root and I will not entrust the security of this situation to humans alone. No offense.”

Holly shook her head. “I’m staying. Send another if you like, but I choose to be stationed here until this is seen through to the end.”

“So be it.” Vinyàya nodded. “Julius?”

Everyone saw the Commander’s face turn three shades redder. His jaw clenched as though biting back a retort, but to their surprise he let it go. He sighed.

“Well, I can see I’m outnumbered, so it’s settled. Drew stays at Fowl Manor. You’ll all just be sitting ducks while we wait for either Knighthood to attack or for Drew’s powers to kick in.” He took a long drag on his cigar. “Gods help me, the Council is going to eat me alive.”

“Agreed,” said Artemis with a touch of amusement. “And so, we wait.”


	6. Knightly Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, the head of Knighthood is called Charla Maine. Charlemagne. Get it? Hehe. Heh. I feel like that pun is probably a very Colfer thing to do. Anyway, Drew is starting to have some more fun around the Manor, and Mulch comes back for a bit. Things get SUPER intense because...Knighthood. Agent Lancer is a jerk. I think Butler would probably be so caught up in having a son that his instincts would get pushed under the rug, just a little bit. Also, I always see Julius as more sentimental and emotional than he is (or pretends to be), so that’s how I write him. He’s my fave. 
> 
> Soundtrack 6: “Rise and Fall” by Starset.

_ London, Knighthood Tower 1 _

 

Charla Maine stared down the city of London from the penthouse of her tower. At least, that’s how her ancestors would have seen it. They’d have looked upon the Knighthood skyscraper (disguised as a generic executive building), and seen it as a castle from the future. That’s how she saw it as well.

Over the past three decades, she’d worked day-in and day-out to rebuild the old society of Knights from the ashes of its demise. The colonization of the Americas had largely ended the interest in pursuing evil creatures and maintaining the purity of family lines.  _ She  _ certainly wasn’t going to let the lineage tarnish, no sir. That was what separated her from the old Knights - when men grew tired of their games and let the ropes go slack, it took a woman of her caliber to straighten everything out. Charla ran a tight ship at Knighthood, and she was well on her way to openly establishing a new generation of God’s chosen. Only, this time there would be considerably more women in the picture. Preferably with guns in the place of swords.

“Lancer?” her British voice rang. “How long has it been since you encountered the dragon and its keepers? Two weeks, was it?”

Her ginger-haired associate nodded without looking up from his laptop. “Two weeks exactly. Why?”

The blond woman turned, letting her long locks flow over the shoulder of her white suit. A red cross was emblazoned across the middle - the symbol of Knighthood. “I triangulated the position of our tracker cell, and it appears our enemies reside in Ireland. Send out our goblin friends on another hunting trip. It’s high time we sent another volley in the dragon’s direction.”

Agent Lancer smiled devilishly and typed out another email. Then he shut the lid of his laptop and stood.

“I assume you also want me to initiate the  _ other _ tactical maneuver as well? The St. George protocol?”

Charla’s eyes practically sparkled as she pouted her lips. “If you would be so kind. Why, you can even go yourself if you want to. It pained me to watch how you begged to go along the first time….”

Lancer knelt and crossed an arm across his chest reverently.

“Thank you, my Lord Maine.”

 

Drew was in the gardens that morning, practicing a fluid string of tosses with his Colorguard flag. He was wearing a black tank top and shorts, barefoot, and the sun glinted off the bands around his wrist. His earbuds blared music that was a Japanese crossover between heavy metal and pop. The flagpole, now bearing white silk with blue-green swirls, sailed elegantly overhead and came down to land flawlessly in his hands and be twirled right back up again by two fingers.

The draconic teen had gotten used to dancing in the vicinity of others at the Manor. Butler, Juliet, and Holly frequently came down to the dojo to watch him in silence, and after each breathless performance he’d give a theatrical bow (albeit while blushing).

Artemis had given him a few tips on technique, but Drew wasn’t overly compelled to utilize them - no longer was there pressure to perform in competitions. Rather, he danced for himself, and whether or not it looked professional was beside the point. Simply put, he didn’t care. He moved however the music and the momentum of the flag and his limbs took him. However, lately there was a more interesting reason for him to spin while dancing.

Lately he’d been seeing wings instead of flag silk.

It had started out as a half-hearted projection of his own imagination, but soon evolved into something he couldn’t stop seeing. The feel of the wind, the sharp ripple of fabric, the strength of each toss. The fairy part of his mind was broadcasting the word  _ flight  _ to all of the rest.

He suspected what was happening. Residue of his true genetics was seeping out from its metaphorical storage. He was preparing to transform.

At least, only psychologically. Physically, there was no change. Holly had taken over a hundred scans of him in the past three days, unbeknownst to him, and all came up frustratingly negative.

All it would take for him to go over the edge now was a trigger. A massive shock that would activate the hidden draconic genes in his body. Funny, how the universe has a way of providing such triggers in its own way….

Or rather, it provides dwarves.

Drew aggressively mouthed the words to the song, foreign as they were, and tossed a double. The flag pinwheeled more than twelve feet above him to the beat. He grinned as he watched it sail back down, and at the exact moment the song ended, he caught it.

Chest heaving, he fished the mp3 out of his pocket and paused it before the next song could play. Unfortunate, because the sounds he heard in place of music were positively  _ obscene _ .

Drew rounded on the noise, brandishing his flagpole.

“ _ Oh, that’s just screwed up…. _ ”

There was a muddy hole in the grass beside him, and out of it crawled the bearded creature that had plundered the kitchen during his first night at the mansion. A dwarf, he remembered. Wasn’t his name Mulch, or something? He flopped onto the ground with a gasp.

Mulch buttoned his bum-flap, panting. “Hey, kid. How’s it going lately? Knighthood found you yet?”

Drew remained poised. Of all of the things racing through his mind at that point in time, the only thing he managed to get out was, “How the hell do you know about Knighthood?”

“Well,” Mulch said, picking his teeth, “that’s a little bit of a long story. Short version -  I came to warn you because I think they’ve been using me as a sleeper cell to track you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I ingested one of their tracker-thingies, and I passed it about three hours ago.” 

And with that, he pulled said thingy out of his beard. It was a small rod, about the length of a finger-digit, and had quite obviously not been washed. It had been corroded, smashed, and gnawed on, judging by the teeth marks all along its length.

Mulch lurched to his feet, took a step, and Drew lunged with the flagpole.

“That’s close enough, dude. You are the most unsanitary person I’ve ever met, to be brutally honest, and I don’t want to come in contact with you. One, because I don’t think I trust you, and two, because I think I might never get clean if I touch you.”

The dwarf raised his hands in surrender. “Touché. And since you didn’t bother to ask, the name is Mulch. Mulch Diggums.”

Drew bypassed his introduction.

“Okay,  _ Mulch _ , if you’re so convinced that Knighthood is tracking me, then why’d you bring the tracker back here? And how do you know they’re after  _ me _ ?”

“One, I smashed the tracker, so they’ll no longer receive a signal from it. Obviously. Two, they’re obviously after you because you’re involved with Fowl and his friends. That, and you don’t smell human.”

Drew lowered the flagpole a few inches. “I don’t?”

Mulch sniffed the air for show. “Nope. Not even a trace on you. You smell like fresh mountain air and pure energy: the bona-fide scent of a dragon. Which is weird, because your people are supposed to be, you know,  _ dead _ . What’s your name, kid?”

“Drew. Drew Butler.”

Mulch’s beard shuffled in surprise. His eyes widened as it dawned on him. “Oh, sweet tapioca…. The big man has  _ another  _ sibling?”

“Close,” Drew said, still brandishing the flagpole. “I’m his son.”

And however the conversation might have developed from there, nobody would ever know. Because at that exact moment, Drew heard the baritone staccato sound of something reminiscent of gunshots. No, not gunshots… 

Helicopter blades.

His eyes were drawn to the horizon, and there he saw immediately five black shapes in the formation of a crucifix. They were coming at speed, and their obvious target was Fowl Manor.

“ _ Oh, sh… _ ” breathed Drew.

“Well, sayonara, kid, this is where I get off,” Mulch said nonchalantly. “Sorry I can’t stick around for the fireworks, but I’ve got a hot date with survival.” And with that, he abandoned the draconic teen in favor of the earth.

Drew found himself petrified with fear. He was standing in the middle of the open grounds, armed once more with nothing but a flag. He was more than three-hundred yards from the house. Could he make it in time? No.

But that didn’t stop him from running at full pelt.

 

Meanwhile, the aerial proximity alarm sounded in Artemis’s office. His resting eyes shot open at the sound, alarm bells ringing a chorus in his own head. His finger came down on the intercom button like lead.

“ _ Butler! Juliet! Holly! The proximity alarm has been triggered! Get Druvidian inside! _ ” his tinny voice screeched throughout the house.

Butler’s head snapped up mechanically at the moment the first syllable of his name was called. In the next instant he was little more than a blur, bolting down the hall at breakneck speed, flying down the stairs and making for the door. Juliet and Holly matched his speed, coming into the foyer from either side.

They breached the doors at once, fanning onto the gravel. Down the hill they saw Drew - screaming his head off and waving his arms. He’d abandoned the flagpole so that it wouldn’t weigh him down.

“ _ DAD!!! _ ” the teen bellowed, “ _ HELICOPTERS!!! _ ”

Butler saw them. He thundered out onto the grass, legs pumping. The ground rumbled beneath his footfalls. He met up with Drew in exactly ten seconds, drawing his Sig Sauer. The giant manservant stood protectively in front of his son, aiming for the metal birds.

“ _ Holly! Get Drew to cover! _ ” he bellowed.

Drew felt an invisible hand on his arm. Holly dragged him up the hill, Butler following mere inches behind. The helicopters were on them now, maneuvering into an arc formation.

They darted behind a section of wall and placed their backs to it. Bullets rained down around them, piercing the air with flashes of heat and sound. Holly unshielded temporarily to preserve her magic.

“Is that Knighthood?!” Drew demanded over the pounding of rounds into earth, breathless.

“Considering that they’re shooting at us and the Knighthood logo is painted in  _ bright red _ on the underside of those choppers, I’m gonna go with a ‘yes,’” Holly replied.

The elf flicked down the bulletproof visor on her helmet and primed up her Neutrino to the highest setting. She risked a peek around the side of the wall, and, as any good Hollywood writer would have it occur, she almost got her head taken off by enemy fire.

Drew was shaking at the time the Knighthood assailants ceased fire. He couldn’t see straight, he was so terrified.

Butler raised his gun above the wall and fired three times, only to be cowed down by return fire. None of the bullets hit the wall itself. Holly re-shielded and darted out into a bush. She let a bolt of energy sink into the cockpit of the leftmost helicopter. No effect. The beam glanced off, which, technically and physically speaking, Neutrino bursts were not supposed to do.

Then she realized - Knighthood’s equipment was meant to be dragon-proof. They’d made it so that the helicopters were impervious to high energy intake by outside forces, such as the condensed blast of dragonfire. And Neutrino bursts.

“ _ D’arvit! _ ” she shouted, and retreated back behind the wall. “Butler, they’re pinning us! Where’s Juliet?!”

Before he could answer, the sound of rifle fire cracked. Three bullets shattered the windshield of the second helicopter (which the energy-proofing mechanisms could not defend against) one hitting the pilot, and the other two ending the copilot’s life. The chopper went down smoking, and exploded as it crashed into the ground. Juliet was lying beneath one of the rosebushes with her sniper rifle. She reloaded and took aim, grinning.

I love it when I get to use this thing, she thought, and fired again.

She felled two more helicopters this way before they regrouped around the other side of the Manor. Butler didn’t worry - Artemis was safe in the basement cell, which had been repurposed as a panic room, so nothing short of a hydrogen bomb could harm him now. Then again, it wouldn’t matter if Knighthood had a hydrogen bomb, because they’d all be vaporized in the same instant.

“Okay,” Butler said, turning, “Drew, if your powers are showing any signs of development, I’d encourage you to use them now.”

“ _ Why the hell would they be turning up now?! _ ”

“Just thought I’d ask. Now listen to me.” He placed a firm hand on Drew’s shoulder. “We’ve got seconds before those helicopters circle back around for round two. If we stick together in a close unit, they won’t shoot us.”

The look in Drew’s eyes was hysterical.

“Are you kidding me?!” he shrieked, “Of course they’re going to shoot us!”

“No, they won’t. Knighthood’s operatives are under strict orders to keep you alive. If they try to shoot one of us, they’ll be putting you right in the line of fire.”

“Then why are they even shooting in the first place?!”

“I’ll explain later,” Butler said forcefully, “Now, go!”

Drew scrambled to a stand. As a unit, they bolted out of cover. Right on cue, the helicopters swarmed, bearing down on them.

The world slowed until it passed at the pace of a steady heartbeat. The only thing Drew could hear was the hollow hiss of his own breathing and the whoosh of helicopter blades. His eyes centered on his hand, which was being crushed by Butler’s grip, and defocused. He heard his father urge him onward, but his legs were working so hard that they lost feeling. Butler was pulling him along faster than he could move.

Drew stumbled, and his hand slipped free. Before he could recover, his face connected with the ground. In slow-motion he watched his father thunder to a stop and turn around to face him. He drew his legs up beneath him, rising to a stand.

And a white-hot pain latched around his entire body.

 

“Fire,” Agent Lancer ordered, and the Knighthood marksman pulled the trigger. But this was no ordinary helicopter gun - it was a weapon specifically designed to shoot dragons out of the air, by means of two needle-like bolts that were electrified with several times as many volts as a high-powered taser.

The bolts jettisoned from the twin gun barrels, spiralled around each other in midair, and made contact with the teenage dragon’s spine.

Now, the charge might have been insulated in any other instance. But in this one, Drew was not wearing shoes. The voltage used him as its conduit, passing through him to the earth, and fried him inside and out. Used him like one uses a piece of technology - run it until its battery dies and then toss it for a newer model. And if he had been human, he would almost certainly have been killed in that instant.

Drew’s eyes widened in the split second before the electric charge crackled in visible, white-hot waves down his torso. Holly, Juliet, and Butler watched in horror as the light consumed him, screaming his name.

Drew threw his head back and screamed too, light filling his mouth like a specter. Blue sparks spat forth from his throat, and his eyes glowed. The pain elicited an animalistic howl, which turned into a shriek, which became a subsonic roar that shattered the nearest windows of the Manor and the windshields of the remaining helicopters. Drew’s hands clawed the air as he was driven to his knees.

Then the voltage died out. 

Drew collapsed to the ground, smoking, twin electrified rods sticking out of his back.

Lancer smirked and pressed a button on his cell phone, ending the recording. Charla would be pleased to have video evidence that the Saint George protocol had been carried out perfectly.

Then he ordered the pilots to return to base, and they left.

 

_ Haven, Police Plaza, Emergency Medical Ward _

 

They placed Drew on a lineup of three fairy-sized beds and propped his head up with two pillows. No wires or needles were attached to his skin, for fear of overloading his system with excess energy from the life-support systems, and, in turn, from the entire power grid of Police Plaza and Haven. Instead, Butler sat beside him to keep a sentinel-like watch on his pulse. His giant hand was clasped around Drew’s wrist, feeling at all times for the steady beat of his heart. The boy breathed slow and deep, no longer inhibited by a second binder. The warlocks had wanted to remove both articles of clothing, but Butler would not be swayed from preserving his son’s dignity. He’d already almost cost him his life.

They’d rushed him down to Haven without a single minute’s delay, the Council’s word ushering them past hordes of waiting civilians and into the emergency lane of every transport system. By now, the word was out - there was a live dragon, here, in Haven.

Artemis was, at Butler’s request, furiously collaborating with the Commanders and with Foaly to find Knighthood’s base of operations. Holly was the only one who joined Butler at Drew’s side, placing a comforting hand on the arm of both humans. Butler, for a long time, said absolutely nothing.

Seven hours stagnated by.

When he did speak, he said, “This is my fault.”

“Butler, you can’t…” she tried.  _ You can’t blame yourself _ .

But the giant eurasian was having none of it.

“Look me in the eyes, Holly. Look me in the eyes and tell me that this wasn’t a direct result of my decision.”

Holly did. He was telling the truth, and they both knew it well.

“I let my guard down. I ignored my instincts. Again. I let my emotions dictate my actions, and look what happened because of it.” He placed a hand over his mouth. “We predicted exactly what was going to happen, and I decided that the best course of action was  _ inaction _ .”

“You did what you thought was best for Drew at the time,” Holly assured him, ears drooping. “No parent could hope to do any better.”

“I could,” was his low reply, and then they said nothing more.

There was a knock on the door five minutes later. The portal slid open to admit both Foaly and Commander Root, sans Artemis. Nobody questioned his absence.

“Any change?” Root asked.

Holly shook her head.

“We used ARClight 1 to trace the helicopters back to their base,” Foaly announced. He was quiet, for Drew’s sake. “They came from a militarized compound in south London, and guess who oversaw that entire mission?”

“Charla Maine? Or was it Agent Lancer?” guessed Holly.

“Bingo on option number two.”

The centaur offered her a tablet. On the screen was a crystal-clear image of the ginger-haired Knighthood operative, exiting one of the helicopters that had survived Juliet’s assault. He was looking smug, as one might expect from a knight that had just completed a successful dragon-hunting mission. Very smug indeed.

“So this  _ was _ their play all along,” Holly said. “They failed to activate his powers the first two times, so third time’s a charm.”

Root nodded. He looked as though he wanted to reach for a cigar and light it thoughtfully, but one fleeting glance from Butler’s haunted eyes was enough to convince him not to.

Instead, the elfin commander came around the side of the bed to peer at Drew. He crossed his arms, assessing, and his head bobbed gently.

“So, this is our little dragon.”

“What will happen when he wakes up?” Butler questioned.

Root shrugged. 

“Hard to say. Nobody who’s alive today has ever witnessed a dragon transform from humanoid to dragonoid for the first time. That said,” He cleared his throat. “On pain of death, don’t ever tell anyone this, but in my early LEP days I was actually appointed to a taskforce that monitored the dragon colonies and acted as an ambassadorial kind of thing. If one of them ever went missing, it was our job to track down the humans responsible. Some of us were even permitted to visit the colonies, on occasion.”

Holly’s ears perked. 

“Were you?” She remembered herself, and added, “Sir?”

“No.” He sounded almost disappointed.

Foaly decided to join the conversation at an inopportune moment. He clopped over to the end of the bed, also now standing at an inopportune place.

“He looks almost too innocent to be something as powerful as a dragon, don’t you think?”

Suddenly Drew’s eyes flew open. He gasped, lurched up, and, totally not of his own volition, spewed a jet of pure blue-white flame into the opposite side of the room, missing Foaly (who was by now eating his own words) by a mere two inches. Everybody else in the room jumped back, except for Butler, who would not be swayed from his side.

Drew’s emerging instincts shut down. Finally he cut off the flame with a cough, and ended up choking on his own spit. He hacked and spluttered, doubling over his curled knees, and felt a massive hand clap him on the back several times. He jumped, afraid, but then he realized it was only Butler.

The draconic teen collapsed back onto the bed, head spinning. He panted to re-inflate his lungs.

“How do you feel?” he heard his father’s rumbling voice ask.

“My mouth tastes like ash,” Drew groaned, “And everything else feels like it’s on fire.” He hissed and lifted a hand, which trembled uncontrollably. “Ah...my fingers sting, and I can’t feel the tips - I think some of my nerve endings got scorched.”

“I’m not surprised. You took one hell of an electric shock.”

“How much?”

“Two-hundred thousand volts, at least,” Butler estimated.

Drew let out a breath and shut his eyes. “ _ Jesus… _ ”

“I’m fairly certain he’s got nothing to do with it.”

The draconic teen bounced his eyebrows in agreement, and for the first time he registered his surroundings. “Why’s the room look so small?” he slurred.

“You’re in Haven,” a new, masculine voice said. “Police Plaza. Welcome to the last subterranean fairy stronghold.”

Drew craned his neck to look over. 

The voice belonged to an elf, obviously older than Holly, with buzz-cut grey hair and mud-brown eyes. Tawny skin, wrinkles around his eyes. Hell, he thought (and not for the first time), why is everybody in my new life so darned  _ attractive _ ?

“Commander Root of the Lower Elements Police,” the elf introduced himself, nodding.

“Hi,” was all Drew said in reply. Authority figures made him nervous.

“And I’m Foaly, the guy you almost just turned into cinders,” said the recovering centaur, “not that anyone cares.”

Drew sat up and turned all the way around, eyes settling on the centaur wearing a lab coat and what appeared to be a tinfoil hat. He was visibly nervous, having just avoided getting his maned head burnt to a crisp.

“Wait, you…. Oh yeah, Holly told me about you! She showed me some of the stuff you’ve invented over the years. You’re a freaking genius.”

Foaly, shock forgotten, stood straight and let his ears stick up like antennae.

“Oh, Holly, you gem! You told him about me?”

“Of course I did,” she grinned, “What’s a best friend for?.”

“And, uh, sorry for almost taking your head off,” Drew apologized sheepishly. “I’m not...sure how I managed to do that. Sorry.”

“Stranger things have happened to our little posse, trust me.” said Foaly dismissively.

Root cleared his throat.

“Since nobody else is speaking up, I may as well tell you. That electric shock was Knighthood’s way of making sure your powers kicked in. And they have. Obviously. Fire isn’t the only thing you have up your sleeve, though. Be careful for a while - it’ll take some time for the rest to make itself known.”

Drew sighed, once again coming to terms with the novel reality that was his life. 

He rolled his shoulders and felt his spine pop. He was uncomfortable. Everybody was staring at him, which was understandable but not necessarily appreciated. In order to get himself out, he said:

“I need to move around. My muscles are all out of whack from getting super-tased.”

He started to get up, but Butler’s hand was there to stop him in a second.

“No, you don’t,” he ordered. Then he gently pushed Drew back down onto the beds. “You’re not going anywhere, young man. You just survived a shock that should have killed you.”

Defiantly, Drew sat up once again.

“Yeah, well, obviously it  _ didn’t _ kill me. Dad, I feel fine.”

“You just said your whole body felt like it was on fire,” Butler pointed out.

Drew stopped. His eyes wandered the room as he assessed his current physical sensations. He came to a peculiar realization.

“I did, but… Now that you mention it, it actually doesn’t feel that way anymore.”

“Are you just saying that because you don’t want to be stuck in bed?”

“No, really. All of the pain is just...just  _ gone _ now, I don’t know how. But look,” Drew said, and he held up his hand. “Not shaking anymore. There’s no fatigue. I’m fine.”

“It’s your powers,” Foaly said. “Accelerated healing, to compensate for not having magic. I guess fire isn’t the only thing you’ve already gained.”

“Huh,” Drew remarked. He looked to his father with a strong attitude of  _ I-told-you-so _ .

“There you go, see? Now can I get out of this claustrophobic closet you call a hospital room?”

Reluctantly, Butler nodded.

“Come with me,” Root offered, surprising everyone. “I want to show you something.”

The offer was spoken more like a command. Gruff. In compliance Drew stood, his head only centimeters from brushing the ceiling, and followed the Commander out of the improvised hospital room. They walked to the end of the hall, and at Root’s verbal request, the automatic doors slid open. The pair emerged onto a balcony with a glass-and-metal railing. It was the first time in centuries that a dragon set eyes on the whole of Haven.

Drew went right up to the railing (which only went up to his knees), breath utterly stolen from him. He stood there in awe, mouth slightly agape, taking in the sights. The jammed thoroughfare, the fake sun, the gardens spreading their tendrils over every empty patch of space. The constant air traffic of sprites and other fairies with mechanical wings. The warm green glows that enveloped everything like a blanket. He was in love at first sight. But he realized at the same time how terrible it was. That fairies--no, people--had to live like this because of humanity.

“So? What do you think of it, kid?” Root grunted, lighting a cigar finally. He leaned his weight onto the railing, letting the smoke curl up into the atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful….” Drew breathed.

Root grunted again. It was somewhere between annoyance and reluctant acceptance, as if that was exactly what he’d expected Drew to think. Stereotypical teenager.

“...and it’s sad.”

The commander looked up at him with contempt, offended by what appeared to be a confession of pity. But he waited, sensing there was an explanation coming. One was given.

“Just looking at all of this,” Drew said, gesturing with his hands, “It makes me realize what it really means to be human. It means persecuting and exiling entire races of people because we can’t bear to share this world with people who are different. To be so afraid, so intimidated by individuality that you force an entire society of people to flee underground. And now you think you own the planet. You assume that everything that you own has always belonged to you, regardless of how you came to acquire it.” He looked down. “It makes me ashamed to think I was ever considered one of them.”

Root inhaled another lungful of smoke, secretly smiling. The humans hadn’t managed to destroy his fairy ideals over the past seventeen years.

“Spoken like a true dragon.”

Drew smiled sadly. He turned to look down at Root, squaring his shoulders.

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much to you, and I won’t expect you to believe me. But I’ve been thinking about this day in and day out for the past two weeks - it sickens me that humanity can’t abandon its prejudices long enough to realize that being a person doesn’t mean you have to be human. And now that my powers are developing, I intend to use them to fix that.”

Root raised an eyebrow. 

“How so?”

“I have an extended lifespan, longer than I ever thought I would. Longer than I’d ever planned for. I’m going to use that time to do anything and everything I physically can to make sure that fairies can live aboveground again. By the time I’m dead and gone, and I’ve done all I can do, Haven will have been abandoned for decades. I swear it. ...Commander.”

They stared at each other for a long time. Then Root barked quietly, which could have been interpreted as a kind of laugh (not that he’d allow rumor of that to spread any time this century), and it was Drew’s turn to be confused.

“I always had faith in your generation, you know that?” Root said, looking back out over the metropolis. “I always knew, somehow, that things were going to change when you kids came into power. Call me a dreamer, but fairy intuition never lies.”

“Thanks for that,” Drew said, and they went back to watching the city buzz.


	7. There's A Dragon On My Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we all just agree Doctor Argon is a jerk? Because I think he is, based on what we all read throughout the books, and Drew is having absolutely NONE of it. (Seriously, a doctor who cares more about publicity than his healthcare practices is hardly deserving of being called a doctor.) Foaly and Drew become best memelords/friends for a bit, and then things get a little...draconic. Root totally wants to go out with Vinyaya (sorry, I don’t make the rules). Drew has a very cute dragon snoot, and I wish to boop it. Lots. The poor baby almost gets attacked by LEP officers. 
> 
> Soundtrack 7: “Rangers” by Falling Up.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Drew demanded, biting back stronger expletives, “‘ _ What kind of body parts are you hiding? _ ’”

Dr. Jerbal Argon laughed nervously, shuffling his notes. It was Drew’s second day in Haven. The Council had recommended Argon for his psychological evaluation, mandatorily, and so here he was in the LEP medical ward, being stared down by two generations of the Butler family like a lioness stares down a young gazelle. The elder looked ready to snap him in half like a handful of sticks over the knee, ice-cold eyes lowering the temperature about twenty degrees. Better be careful here.

“N-not to be offensive, that is, it’s just that somet-sometimes the mind is tricky. It can be influenced by certain hormone influxes, you understand,” Argon stammered.

“All you need to know about that is that right now I’m having an influx of adrenaline and pure  _ rage _ that might influence me to come over there and drop-kick you through the wall,” Drew growled. “Other than that,  _ Doctor _ , the only body part you need to be concerned with is my brain. You’re a shrink, not a gynecologist, so get shrinking.”

“Ah. Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend, I assure y-”

“I know exactly what you meant. Just get on with it!”

Argon jumped, hoping that what the Council was paying him for this session would be enough to cover the anxiety medication he’d need to take after.

“R-right. So, it says here you have been diagnosed with paranoid-anxiety and depression, as well as severe gender dysphoria. Would you mind elaborating on that for me?”

Drew scoffed. “Sure. Every day I wake up and go to war with my own head. I despise my own body, and sometimes I lose my patience and snap-slash-lunge at the next person who assumes that what’s in my pants is the most important thing to know about me.”

Argon gulped.

“....And what kind of steps do you take to alleviate these feelings? Have you tried reducing your stress levels? Getting more sleep?”

Drew looked at his father with equal parts fury and “ _ are you kidding me” _ .

“Is this guy even a real doctor?” he asked, pointing.

“Sometimes I wonder….” Butler mumbled in reply, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, which was about an inch above his head.

The draconic teen crossed his arms to mimic his father. “Okay, mister doctor guy, it’s my turn for questions. What does your Council think this session will achieve, exactly?”

Argon replied right away, eager to take some of the blame off his own head and place it on someone else’s.

“The Council requested me to have this session with you because they want to...how do I put this...they want ensure that you are of stable enough mind to coexist among the rest of the fairy folk. They...think it best to know if your temperament has undergone some  _ change _ during your time away from other fairies. You were raised by humans, after all.”

Drew felt a hot ball of anger drop into his gut. “What  _ kind _ of  _ change _ ?”

“Anything of the...more violent sort, I suppose. Anything that might cause you to use your new abilities for unseemly causes.”

The draconic teen stilled and controlled himself, taking a deep breath.

“So...because I was raised by humans...you people think that I’m going to turn into some raging, prejudiced lunatic and kill everybody, just because I have powers now?” he said shakily.

“Yes, exactly!” Argon agreed without even thinking. He scribbled something down on his notepad, and it took him about four seconds to realize what he’d said. “Wait, no, I di-”

Drew growled, low and animalistic. He rose to a stand, towering over the incompetent doctor threateningly.

“ **_Get out._ ** ”

And Dr. Argon did, with great speed. When the door slid shut after his scampering gnome legs, Drew whirled to glare at his father. 

“What the hell was that?”

Butler shook his head. “I’m sorry, Drew. Argon was the one that helped cure Artemis of his Atlantis Complex last year. Based on recommendations, I didn’t think he’d be that kind of ignorant fool. I apologize.”

Drew’s fingers clawed the air, then formed fists at his sides. He knew he was supposed to control his emotions while his abilities were unstable and still-forming, but if the Council thought he was going to just sit by and tolerate this, then...to hell with them.

He sighed. “Whatever, it’s not your fault. Ah….I’m going to go hang out with Foaly. He’s dying to show me all of his inventions, since apparently he’s starved of the chance except for when you guys need him to bail you out. By the way, where’s Juliet?”

“On an urgent mission to restore the house and grounds to their proper order before Artemis’s parents come home and have a stroke.”

“Ah. Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Then Drew skipped out the door and made his way down to Foaly’s main lab. It was a bit disorienting to walk in a hallway where your head almost brushes the ceiling. He made a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn’t claustrophobic, and crammed himself into the lift system.

While he was in the hallway he got a glance at the front doors. The city beyond it called to him, urging him to explore, but he knew he was under “house” arrest. As one of the medical warlocks had remarked to him:

“ _ Right now, your energies are highly unstable. Until your powers start to fully manifest, you’re essentially a walking nuclear weapon. But darned if you aren’t the cutest little nuke that’s ever been in Haven. Try not to explode, won’t you? _ ”

He’d laughed at the medic’s choice of words.

When he got to the ground-floor lab, Drew approached the audiobox and whispered “Open Sesame,” which was Foaly’s new favorite passcode. The doors permitted him in.

“What’s up, my guy?” Foaly asked, delighted to have this particular visitor. When Drew made an amused face, he said, “I’ve been researching the current human teenager slang to make it easier for us to communicate.”

“As long as you don’t start speaking in memes, I think we’re fine. I just don’t think I could get that out of my head. A meme-loving centaur.” He shook his head.

“Well, my advanced vernacular might prove a challenge for you to keep up with otherwise,” Foaly boasted.

“Listen,” Drew said, sassily holding up a finger, “it is  _ not  _ my fault that the current American education system was designed to condition children for a life of factory work in the industrial age. And I’ll have you know, I was always in the top one-percent of academics in my graduating class. So there.”

The centaur held his hands up in surrender.

“Woah, there, no need to be so salty. I’m just trying to keep things lit around here.”

“Please….please stop….” Drew giggled, holding a hand to his forehead. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he went on to ask, “So, what are you working on?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Foaly said, rubbing his hands together. “As you know, the entire world underwent a technological reset last year. Humans have had to reinvent a lot of their security systems and so forth, which creates a challenge for those of us that are trying to stay incognito. Our old camouflage techniques are becoming obsolete. Take my camfoil, for instance - it changes colors from every angle to become invisible.”

“But now,” he continued, “cell phone cameras don’t agree with the fibers I used to create it. So I’ve got to get more creative…”

Foaly pulled what appeared to be an invisible sheet out from a drawer. It could have just been theatrics, and there could have been nothing there at all, until he threw the heavy sheet at Drew and it hit him in the face.

The draconic teen jumped, pawing at the invisible material. 

“Okay, so what’s new about it?” he said.

Foaly embarked on a small tale. “I was out watching a new movie with my wife,” he took a second to sigh dramatically, “Caballine. And it hit me - when you film movies, you use a green screen to capture the actors independent of their surroundings so you can place them in computer-generated settings.”

“So, the same concept works for phone cameras,” Drew said, instantly catching on. “You implemented green-screen fibers into the design so the whole thing is undetectable by cameras...and you kept some fibers from the old design so it’s undetectable by eyes as well. That’s awesome.”

Foaly whistled, shaking his head in awe. “I swear, it’s like we’re related.”

Drew smiled bashfully, but then his face formed a light grimace. Suddenly there was a burning sensation in his chest and lower abdomen. It had been ignorable until just then, and he had tried to forget about it, but now he simply couldn’t. It felt like having an upset stomach, which was a sensation Drew considered to be literal torture.

He held a hand to his stomach, the universal sign for “ _ I don’t feel good _ .”

Foaly immediately knew something was up.

“Hey, you don’t look so great, Drew.”

“Yeah,” he groaned in reply, “there’s a reason for that.” The burning sensation was spreading to his extremities now, and intensifying.

The centaur approached him nervously. There was a tingle that ran all the way down his back to his tail, and all the hair on his body stood on end. He didn’t realize at the time that this was a side-effect of the energy waves pouring from Drew’s unstable form.

“Uh...Drew...” he said slowly, “buddy, I don’t want to alarm you, but your eyes are glowing bright blue.”

“What?” he moaned, turning to look at his reflection on a black computer screen.

And sure enough, there was an aquamarine glow pulsing from his pupils.

Drew suddenly fell to his knees, muscles spasming in his legs. He broke out into a cold sweat. His fingernails felt like they were going to come shooting off at any moment, and flesh on his back bulged as if something was going to come bursting out from underneath. I’m dying, he thought immediately, that’s what this is.

Then he felt a growl bubble up from his lungs, unbidden, and he realized that he was actually about to do quite the opposite.

He was about to come to life. In a way.

A very violent way.

Drew bolted, shouting the password on his way out. The doors just barely managed to open in time. He streaked past doorways and LEP officers of all ranks, blue light tinting the world ahead of him. Cries of astonishment sprang up behind him. Didn’t matter. If he could just get outside before it happened, then…

He exploded past the front door, and there was, undeniably, chaos.

 

_ Police Plaza, Commander Root’s office _

 

Root leaned onto his elbows and sucked on a fungus cigar, staring into the open video link that connected him to Section Eight. More specifically (and more importantly) it connected him to Raine Vinyàya. He enjoyed their conversations more than he’d ever admit, and woe be whichever officer caught a passing glance of him cracking a smile through the glass.

“It looks as though my fellow Councilmen have decided to make a public announcement about Drew next week,” Vinyàya said, looking satisfied with herself. “They want to hold it in Haven and televise it to Atlantis. Make it known to the entire fairy race that dragons aren’t extinct after all.”

Root harrumphed. “They want to make a spectacle out of him, sure. Shy kid like Drew, he’ll never agree to it.”

“There’s been no mention of whether his presence is required.”

“But,” he pried, “is yours?”

Vinyàya gave him a look, smiling slyly. “Of what importance is it to you?”

Root shrugged.

“Just curious is all.”

“Well, for your information, yes, I’m being told I have to come. I was going to come by shuttle in about two days’ time. Maybe take some time to get to know Drew, before he becomes public interest number one.”

“Any plans once it’s over?”

Vinyàya looked at him again, and said, “You sound a bit too interested to be ‘just curious,’ Julius. Are you sure you don’t want to speak up about something?”

Root’s usually-hard features hinted at a smile. “Just thought you might want to spend a little more time in Haven before you go back to Atlantis Section Eight.”

She thought for a moment. Pretended to think, more like.

“In that case, I think I’ll change my visa to tomorrow. How does that sound?”

In response, Root took another drag off his cigar. His eyes flicked toward the window in a classic double-take, and then he let the smoke leave his lungs in one long exhale. He kept staring at the window. Almost appeared to be in shock.

“Julius?” Vinyàya inquired. “What’s the matter?”

“Change of plans, Raine,” Root said, still staring, “I’m going to need you to get down here as soon as possible. If you can manage it, now. Right now.”

“What are you talking about?”

Root swallowed. “There’s a literal dragon staring me down from outside my window at Police Plaza.”

Then he reached down to the video camera, turning it so that the lens pointed to his single window, and there was the sight of a dragon’s snout, smooshed up against the glass, breathing condensation onto it. The creature lowered its head to peer into the room, and then silently made a noise of distress, as if to pitifully say  _ help _ .

“I think you’re right, Julius. I think I’ll come down there right now.”

 

There is no time of day or night in which Police Plaza or the courtyard just before it is empty. Always, Haven’s citizens buzz around it to protest or loiter or beg for the service of any officer in particular. In recent years, there was a large gathering of folks who requested Captain Holly Short for help. Others complained about the unfair treatment of goblins compared to other fairy families, which was mis-spelled out in big letters on signs that read “ _ Equalitee 4 Goblinz _ ” with an upside-down exclamation mark.

Today, however, defending the obviously guilty and loitering were not the main events surrounding Police Plaza.

Not once a blond human teen burst out into the middle of the square.

Startled motor operators swerved to avoid him, causing a chain of minor collisions. Protesters, who had immediately stopped their protesting, snapped pictures and then dove out of the way. Sprites banked wide and skimmed the sides of buildings. Cries of panic and the usual proclamations of  _ oh-my-gods _ sprang up like a chorus. This human was not one of the ones they recognized, from that Artemis Fowl’s lot, nor did he smell like one. He was not supposed to be here, and that growling noise he made was terrifying.

Drew stumbled out onto the road unconsciously, gripping his head with fingers that were gradually and painfully turning into claws. His skull felt like it was going to explode.

He fell to his knees, pale blue-green light cocooning him. There was a giant rush, like the sound of wind in a tunnel, and then Drew felt his entire body violently expand. The world shot away from him, as if he had leapt to a great height. His vision turned sharp and vibrant. His head...it felt so heavy.

Cries were hushed. Mothers hid their children. 

Quiet.

Jaws dropped as the human child reared up his head. But he wasn’t human anymore. Oh, no. This was something completely new to the people of Haven, something right out of their children’s storybooks.

There was a living, breathing dragon at Police Plaza.

Drew realized immediately what had happened. He reared up, towering monstrously over the fairies below. On all fours, he was more than twelve feet tall. Standing on two, he was nearly twenty. His muscles felt foreign. They did not belong to him. He tried to speak, and all that came out was a guttural sound that was halfway between a growl and a shriek.

Drew settled back down onto his forelegs, looking down at himself. His hands had become enormous paws with thick, dull claws. He had a tail, which coiled around in the air and almost smacked a dwarf unconscious.

The draconic teen whirled to look at what he called in his head the “fairy Police building,” and reared up again. He lurched forward, tripping over his own back feet, which sent his head forward and his snout right into the window of a fourth-floor office. The single elf inside (which he then recognized as Commander Root) gaped at him for several seconds. Drew let a noise of distress bubble forth from his lungs, eyes slanted in fear.

That was when the real panic started.

Spell broken, the fairies screamed. No safety protocol on or under the earth had taken the presence of a dragon into consideration, and so they had none to follow. Gnomes hustled, screeching and out of breath, into the nearest establishments for cover. Drivers honked their horns aggressively, as if that might scare the dragon away. Officers streamed into the plaza to bring some order to the chaos, only to soil themselves and join the terrified masses.

Drew whimpered. He shied back from the crowds.

In their haste and lack of coordination, as there tends to be in these sort of situations, some ran headlong into danger, which was the area directly beneath and behind Drew. There was a stampede of fairies flowing past his legs, and in an effort not to crush anyone he backpedaled, stamping the ground wherever there was a safe space.

Braver LEP officers approached him, shouting orders. Drew saw them whip out their buzz batons. He snorted, panting, eyes wide in new fear. They were trying to back him up against the main building. Corralling him.

Drew lowered his head and bellowed gently, trying to send the message of  _ keep back _ . His breathing came heavy, he was shaking.

The first electric shock grazed his back leg and he leapt forward, screaming in his head. He swung his head back and forth to shake off the pain, the momentum pulling his body. He couldn’t balance properly.

At one point he scooted back, and the horn jutting out of his heel clipped the side of a tiny vehicle. He tripped backward and his multi-ton body squashed it like an aluminum can. The crunching sound it made mortified him, and all he could think, over and over, was a profuse apology.

He roared once more as the officers closed in.

 

“ **_Drew!_ ** ” Butler bellowed like a loudspeaker, storming down the front steps of Police Plaza. The Lep officers froze in formation, seeing him, and realized that the blond human-dragon had some relation to the giant man that was Artemis Fowl’s bodyguard. Artemis himself followed close behind, flanking Holly. They stopped cold at the sight of the square. Drew turned at the sound of his father’s voice.

“ _ Oh my gods above, _ ” Holly breathed in awe. 

Artemis put a hand to his chest. Butler felt his heart skip a beat. 

Drew’s dragonoid form was massive and bulky, while lean, like a leopard (if a leopard were twelve feet tall with scales and wings, which is typically impossible, but there you have it). Combat-built. His scales were creamy-colored and smooth, like white marble. Black horns jutted from his skull, curling forward, and his head was crowned by an arched black blade. His tail was tipped by a row of smaller blue-and-black blades - a long-range weapon. Aquamarine accents and organic symbols were splashed onto his body like paint. When his wings spread wide, they were like dyed silk, all gossamer whites and teals and brown-tinged blacks. 

Drew whined, relieved, and bounded over. He was on Butler like a giant dog, stamping left and right and making sounds as incoherent as his own thoughts. Draconic babbling.

Butler reached up to clamp a massive hand (now infantile by comparison) over his son’s snout, pulling it down to his level so he could look him in the eyes.

“Easy, Drew. Be calm,” he said, slow, forceful yet soothing. “You are in no danger here.”

Drew’s eyes re-formed that pitying slant as he panted, trying to heed the command. There were too many people around them, staring, and his anxiety couldn’t cope. It didn’t help that he was over twelve feet tall, but he’d also caused a massive traffic jam and sparked a chain reaction among the entire citizenry of Haven. Too many eyes watching now, to be calm. He hated being the center of negative attention.

“Focus on me. Remember the sensation you felt when you transformed, and then reverse it,” Butler instructed reassuringly.

He closed his eyes, stilling.

The draconic teen stilled himself, knowing he was being watched, forcing himself not to care. He recalled that feeling of expanding, of being yanked back from the ground as though through a suction tube. Hints of the feeling were there on the fringes of his senses waiting to be touched like a live wire. Drew reached out with his mind, the warmth of his father’s hands a comfort, and willed himself to be sucked back through.

The ground rushed up to meet him. Drew assumed a semi-humanoid form for a single moment, and then became entirely human. His clothes, through some welcome miracle, reassembled intact.

Shaking, Drew looked up at his father and felt his throat burn with the threat of tears. Before either of them could say anything, he reached out and buried his face into Butler’s torso. Giant arms wrapped around him as he whimpered.

“Hey! You! Mud men!” a high-pitched voice shouted from behind him.

The voice belonged to a fidgety sprite that hovered behind him, red-faced and practically smoking at the ears. He wore the bronze acorns of an LEP Corporal. His was the vehicle that Drew had backpedaled and crushed, coincidentally enough. The Corporal fluttered down and jabbed Drew in the calf with an accusing finger.

“You better have the insurance to cover the repairs for what you did to my cruiser!”

Do fairies even have insurance? Drew’s subconscious thought.

“Stow it, Hawthorne,” Holly barked, stalking over. “Leave the kid alone. You know you’ll be comped for on-duty damages.”

“That thing just totalled my brand-new cruiser! Surely I should be entitled to a little more than just vehicle comp!” the Corporal ranted.

Holly pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“A  _ dragon _ , one of the most powerful and revered creatures on the planet, has been found alive in Haven for the first time in  _ centuries _ , and all you care about is money. Unbelievable.”

The belligerent officer persisted in his tirade. “Oh, yeah? Well, dragon or no, I want him to say he’s sorry for crushing my ride. Go on, say it, kid!” And then he jabbed Drew again.

“As your superior, Corporal, I order you to stand down and return to your post as if nothing ever happened here,” Holly said cooly. “Do it now, or I will refer you to Commander Root. And to the dragon’s  _ father _ , who will not let you off with simply a wounded pride. Probably a wounded everything else.”

Then Butler growled, mostly for show but partially not. 

Corporal Hawthorne promptly backed off. He stalked off towards his cruiser, whispering to it some soothing Gnommish words of lament. His fellow officers went to work barricading back the ever-growing crowd, which was barely visible behind the flash of cameras that hungrily snapped pictures of the human-turned-dragon and his odd assortment of family.


	8. Council Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a fun one, let me tell you. We’ve got jerkface sexist Council guy, whom Artemis and Holly emphatically tell to piss off, and then Drew whips out the special sass on ‘em. Perceptive Drew is perceptive. Oh, and he speaks the dragons’ language for the first time. If y’all want me to, I can record and post an audio of me saying what he says. Ask Mary, they’ll tell you all about it.
> 
> Soundtrack 8: “Bad Intentions” by Digital Daggers.

“I’m so sorry….” Drew droned, hiding behind his sleeves with his knees pulled up to his chest as he balanced on a tiny fairy chair. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I know you guys didn’t want me to go out in public yet, and I feel really bad about it… God, I’m so sorry….”

A neurotypical person might view this scene and understand that what was done was done and no amount of apology could change it. But anxiety, particularly paranoid anxiety, has no mercy on the mind, and it whispers all sorts of deceptions into its victim’s ear. It can make one feel as though death is upon them for even the slightest transgression. As it did at this point.

Commander Root was helping matters none.

He paced and stalked, back and forth, trailing a cloud of smoke as he fumed in more ways than one. Dragons are hypersensitive to emotional auras, as Drew was painfully experiencing. He could feel the tension and the hostility that Root gave off. Powerfully so. Drew himself was tense as a tightrope, clenching up every time the commander paced toward him.

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me why you decided to rush blindly into the artificial light of day and transform for the whole world to see?” Root growled.

The draconic teen nodded timidly.

There was only one thing he hated more than stomach pain - the excruciating feeling that one is “in trouble.” He was certainly feeling that now, and would gladly do anything to lift the guilt from his shoulders. He didn’t want to be in trouble with the commander. He liked the old elf, and wanted it to be mutual.

“I was with Foaly. I felt it, that I was going to transform, right before it happened. And I didn’t know if I could control it, and since my powers are derived from energy I wasn’t sure if the transformation was going to be...explosive. Either way, I’d have taken out a significant chunk of the building, which would still have raised questions. I just figured that it would be safer for me to get out into an open space, you know?”

When he was done he cast his eyes down and intently fiddled with his hands, awaiting judgment.

An uncomfortable moment of silence passed.

“Well, kid,” Root said finally, sighing out a huge plume of smoke. “You certainly dodged a bullet there. Don’t know if I’m pleased with the alternative. But at least I don’t have to remodel around here.”

Drew breathed out through his nose, relieved. He cast a sidelong glance to Butler, Artemis, and his fairy acquaintances, the former of which winked encouragingly. At least, he thought he did. It could have been a trick of the light.

“So...what happens now?”

“Now, Drew, we wait for Commander Vinyàya to finish convincing the rest of her Councilmen to stop having a hissy fit and start listening to the same thing you’ve just told me,” Root replied, sitting down. “If it can be done. Honestly I have no idea what they’re going to decide.”

“He’s just a kid,” Butler said. “And this was entirely out of his control. Surely they won’t do anything too harsh, considering.”

Artemis tutted.

“We shall see, old friend. This is a new Council, aside from the Wing Commander. They may be more just than the previous lot, or they may be hard-pressed to please constituents. It’s all politics.”

Then they all turned to the screen of green static on the wall.

Drew stared into the holo-glass table, feeling the pressure build on him. The thought of being sentenced to whatever fate by a group of politicians did not sit easily with him. This Vinyàya woman, whoever she was, had better be a master of persuasion. His foot danced on the ground, and his fingers toyed with the material of his jeans.

“Stop fidgeting, Drew,” Butler advised him. “You look nervous.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m not a liar,” he retorted, smiling cynically.

Moments later, the static fizzled out and made clear the faces of the nine Council members all sitting in a crescent formation. A dwarf, a sprite, two pixies, two gnomes, and three elves glared down at him, all but for a woman with a mane of silver hair, whom he assumed was Vinyàya. She looked defeated. A bad sign, he interpreted.

Drew felt the white-hot hand of fear grip his insides.

_Here it comes…._

Front and center was a rail-thin sprite with drooping ears and a perpetual scowl. He looked down his pointed nose at Drew with a little something like contempt.

“Commander Root,” the sprite acknowledged, the peculiar light washing out his features. “Captain Short. Consultant Foaly. Humans.”

“Councilman Weatherbrook,” Root said.

Weatherbrook nodded his head.

“We have come to a formal decision about the fate and future of the dragon known as Druvidian Riley. I think that’s him there. I can’t really tell. Connection’s all messed up.” He narrowed his eyes at the screen.

“I’m here,” Drew said, but he hadn’t cleared his throat so the sound came out all raspy.

“Ah. Well, then let’s get on with it. After a heated debate, which _Councilwoman Vinyàya_ decided to drag out meticulously,” (The silver-haired elf squared her shoulders, staring defiantly in his direction.) “we have determined that it would be most beneficial for the People, as a whole, and for Druvidian himself, if he were to be secluded from the confines of Haven and all dwellings similar for an indefinite period of time. A-”

“ _You’re kicking him out?_ ” Holly blurted. “ _All this time, you’ve been fighting to get him underground, and now you want to kick him out?_ ”

Drew’s whole body deflated. He couldn’t believe it.

“Captain Short. What happened earlier today was perhaps the worst thing that could have happened. This child, this _boy_ , ran out into the streets and announced himself with full destructive force, when we had intended to introduce him formally. Softly. Without all of the media and press muscling their way in and spreading hysteria about the whole thing. This mess is now upon our shoulders to remedy, which it wouldn’t have been if Druvidian had acted according to the guidelines that were set for him.”

Artemis stood abruptly.

“Councilman Weatherbrook, I have to disagree, on all fronts. Druvidian cannot be blamed for this situation. He did not take on these abilities of his own accord, and because of his quick thinking, no lives were lost. He has in fact helped to take some of the weight _off_ of your shoulders.”

Weatherbrook opened his mouth, but Artemis headed him off.

“And this is most definitely _not_ the worst thing that could have happened, I might add. The _worst_ thing would be a storm of Knighthood agents streaming down into the terminals because _your_ secret operatives are sorely incapable of hunting down the goblins that work for them. _That_ , my dear deluded councilman, is what the _worst_ thing would be. Not this.”

The Irish boy passed a glance onto his peer, who smiled sadly. Drew wanted to rush over and hug Artemis for defending him so fiercely.

Vinyàya claimed her victory smile, saying smugly, “I _told you_ they would see right through it, Darien….”

Weatherbrook snapped around to glare at her.

“And _I_ told _you_ to shut it, Raine!”

“ _Councilman!_ ” Butler barked, causing Weatherbrook and three others to jump. “This is my son’s future we’re discussing. I’ll thank you to discuss it in a more civil tone.”

Darien Weatherbrook did not widen his eyes, nor did he display any intimidated body language such as swallowing and excessive blinking. Artemis privately commended him for his composure.

“Very well. Yes, you are right, Fowl, that isn’t the real reason why we have decided so. The truth is that Druvidian’s presence puts all of the People at grave risk.”

“How so?” Artemis probed.

“Well as you said so eloquently, there are goblins of unknown number and unknown affiliation that roam the tunnels. This already places us at risk of discovery, and I find it curious that we have not already been found. Most likely Knighthood has no direct quarrel with the rest of us fairy folk.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Vinyàya added bitterly.

“Yet,” Weatherbrook agreed. “But Knighthood has a very obvious quarrel with that dragon. My fellow councilmen and I have come to the conclusion that, once news of Druvidian’s presence belowground reaches their executives, Knighthood will send their legions to smoke us out in order to get to him. I cannot allow that. _We_ cannot allow that,” he amended. “So. Our intention is to get him out as quickly and quietly as possible, to minimise the fuss.”

Holly rose to a stand, adopting her famous _I’m-about-to-do-something-incredibly-stupid_ look. Commander Root saw it immediately, having christened said look himself and kept a photograph of it in his desk drawer at all times, but it was too late to stop her.

And by the time she was done, he was marginally glad he’d decided not to.

“Councilmen, Wing Commander, I’m sorry, but this is a whopping load of _troll droppings_ .” Mouths gaped in offense, but her tirade was far from over. “When we rescued the people of Hybras and demons were introduced back into society, there was a nice big ceremony with speeches and free drinks and everything. It was televised on every screen in Haven and Atlantis. But now? Now that a species that was made extinct by our inaction has been brought back, _this_ is all Drew gets? A slap on the wrist with an eviction notice? With all due respect, _are you bleeping kidding me?!_ ”

And then the uproar began.

Drew stared off into some abyss, eyes glazing over with that glassy film that Butler recognized from watching Artemis’s plotting sessions. The giant manservant waited for a moment, letting the conversation drift further into adversity.

“Drew?” he said quietly. “What are you thinking?”

Weatherbrook cried, “Yes! Please do tell us, young dragon, what are you thinking?”

Drew raised his eyes to the screen, expressing a disturbing lack of emotion. The others bit back their retorts to hear him. None of them could see the clarity of the situation. But he could. Oh, he could. He saw it clear as a freshwater lake.

He swallowed.

“You think I’m going to die, don’t you?”

“W-what?” Weatherbrook flustered. “I don’t… Surely you can’t believe w-” then the sprite shut his mouth, obviously not having prepared any counter-arguments for this scenario.

Butler, Artemis, Foaly, Holly, and Root raised their heads, now very much getting the point.

“You do, don’t you?” Drew said, cutting him off. “Of course you do. You’re not going to waste any more time on me, because why get the People’s hopes up? Why get them all excited for the revival of my species if I’m just going to end up dead any day now? Why celebrate, when they’re all witnessing what you think are the final, sad, sorry days of the last dragon on earth?”

The draconic teen took his turn to stand, and his chair screeched along the floor.

“You know what? That’s fine. You wouldn’t offer your help even if I was inches from death, I can see that much.”

“You don’t have the right to accuse us of that,” Weatherbrook sneered. “You’re not even a whole dragon yet, what right do you have to represent your species? You probably don’t even speak draconic, do you, boy?”

Without even thinking, Drew replied, “ **_Titui na’haranya nyakena saes nior iin zhad ahk cirdweh youh kael vibesti. Ii taya ha iist arad za wiium atokazha knng kiore zhe va!_ ** ”

The whole Council was stricken with shocked murmurs. (His words were untranslatable by all ears but those belonging to a fairy, but were so utterly sharp and profane that they will not be translated, for the sake of all others.)

Once recovered, Weatherbrook cleared his throat.

“So...does this mean you choose to renege on your promise that Commander Root informed me of? Your promise to liberate the People?”

Drew’s mouth curled up into a snarl, and he glowered in that way that made him the spitting image of his father. _As if you’re entitled to it_ , he thought. “Oh, believe me, I am coming back to make things right. But I’m not doing it for _you_.” He cocked his head toward his fairy acquaintances.

“I’m doing it for _them_.”

Councilman Darien Weatherbrook sat back in his chair. “Very well, then. Very well, indeed.”

Then the video link went dark.


	9. Father From The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root is a grumpy instructor, but he really likes dragons and he thinks Drew is a cute kid, so he’s not so much of a jerk to him as he is to his officers. Mulch is unhappily interned at Knighthood for crap wages. Drew can’t get his powers to work, or so he thinks, and then we finally get to see Kortallen for the first time. Hint: he HATES Butler with a fiery passion. You’ll find out why later. Also, the language of the dragons has no gendered words, period (cuz they don’t deal in that nonsense). 
> 
> Soundtrack 9: “Too Much is Never Enough” by Florence and the Machine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name to pronounce:  
> Caionis = kye-ON-iss

They boarded the next shuttle to the surface. Drew was sad to have to leave Haven. He’d wanted to explore the tunnels and have the true fairy experience, but, alas, it was not to be. Oh, well. He could still have Holly show him videos and all of her Fae-Metal music.

The plan now was to set up a shielded base of operations on the south side of the grounds. It would be impenetrable by even nuclear weapons, and would serve as a safe house in the case that Knighthood returned. They were lucky in their endeavors - Angeline Fowl had phoned Artemis on the shuttle to tell him they were staying in Finland for another two weeks because they’d found the perfect doctor for the twins. Two weeks was an eternity, as far as their usual escapades went. They’d saved the world in a matter of hours before. Multiple times.

Too many, they’d decided.

It took all of forty minutes to assemble the base and establish a wifi connection. Foaly and Root were among the only fairies there, along with a pair of paramedic warlocks and a few low-ranking Lep officers for security. (Drew felt too self-conscious to dance outside anymore, knowing that at any time he could be observed by shielded eyes.) The remains of the helicopters had been towed away and scrapped, and the lawn restored, bullets removed. Juliet had done a commendable job.

Almost immediately, they began Drew’s “training,” which consisted of multiple daily sessions of Commander Root trying to help him through the process of transforming.

And failing.

And more failing.

Drew became frustrated with himself. He couldn’t replicate that sensation, that feeling of being sucked back from the earth and having his whole body turn to ice. He’d had it nailed down before, he knew he had. But he couldn’t do it again.

“Come on, kid, what’s wrong with you?” Root said, crossing his arms. He leaned up against the wall surrounding a fountain, unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. Freaking drill sergeant.

Drew let his hand fall heavy to his sides in exasperation.

“I don’t know! The feeling’s gone now. I can’t remember it clearly enough.”

“If Knighthood were attacking right this minute, would you remember?”

“Probably...” He sighed and plopped down onto the grass to pluck at weeds. “Maybe it would help if you told me more about what dragons are like. You’re what, like an expert, or something? Holly mentioned it to me.”

“Did she, now?” the elf said. “Figures. But yes, I used to be on an LEP Dragonology taskforce. I picked up a thing or two during my time.”

“Like what?”

Root made a face that made him look annoyed yet mildly affectionate.

Drew scooted closer. “Exactly how strong are we, compared to the rest of the fairy families?”

“Well...you could take down about twelve trolls in as many minutes, which I’ve actually witnessed. For frame of reference of how strong trolls are, it can take up to six fully-armed LEP officers to subdue one. It took your father about five minutes.”

Drew whistled. “Damn.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Root nodded. “Butler is probably the strongest human on the planet, or at least he used to be. It comes as no surprise that your dragonoid form draws from the strength you inherited from him.”

He sat back thoughtfully.

“You’ve got flight, fire, magic-resistance, naturally accelerated healing, sheer size, and your whole body is one big powerhouse of energy. Yours is a species built for war, Drew, and war alone. But I’ll tell you something that few people remember - dragons have only ever used their abilities to foster peace. That’s all you ever fight for.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” Drew admitted. “Only, before, my power was limited to artistic skill and intelligence. But now…”

“Now that you have your draconic abilities, you can do so much more.” Root finished.

“Exactly.”

The commander finally lit his cigar. “I wanted to tell you, you remind me of a young dragon I used to know. His name was...Caionis. All he ever wanted to do was bring the fairy families back together and somehow unite them with humans. For a long time, I really believed he could do it. But...we were both young, then.”

“So does that mean you think I’m capable of what he was?”

Root peered down at him, raising a critical eyebrow.

“If you get back up off your rear and start practicing again instead of picking at the grass...maybe.”

Drew gave a sort of disgruntled, lopsided grin, and raised himself from the ground in one fluid motion. It was going to be a long day.

 

_Knighthood Tower, London, two days before_

 

“It’s nice to see you again, Mister Diggums,” Charla purred in a way that suggested it was very much not nice to see him again, “although I thought you would be smart enough not to force us to meet under these circumstances.”

Mulch thought of himself as the perceptive type. With his natural dwarven abilities, he could sense vibrations two miles off, or feel the heartbeats of a particular worm. His fairy intuition granted him the skill to read any situation and determine exactly how much humor was necessary to get him out of it. This situation, he perceived, required either too much or too little humor for him to manage.

It was the stickiest of situations in the books, as far as he was concerned.

He was handcuffed and muzzled, literally, surrounded by humans almost as big as Butler and infinitely more prejudiced. Knights. And he was being stared down by their leader in the top floor of her tower.

It was his fault, really. If only he hadn’t happened across her limousine and had the overwhelming urge to break into it and rip the gold trim right out of his frame. The smell of the metal had been so alluring. How could he possibly resist? It was a regretful happenstance, as Charla Maine had already been made aware of his existence and his better-known talents by her goblin underlings. After having been tied down and interrogated, they’d finally decided to let him go. Unbelievable. Little had he known that they’d planted a tracking beam on him.

Somehow, after he’d warned that dragon boy, who was coincidentally Butler’s son, the knights traced him to a desolate pub in the middle of the scottish mountains.

From there they gagged him and stuffed him in a trunk and shipped his behind (thankfully clothed) all the way to London for a meet with his boss.

If only his jaunt as a Knighthood employee was a paid one...

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he grunted, obviously playing dumb.

“Of course you do, Mister Diggums. Were my guidelines not clear? You were meant to remain below ground, at Fowl Manor, until further communication was established. Not to interact with any of those living there.”

But the thing about giving a fairy instructions was that they had to be phrased as more than just “guidelines.” A human had to give a direct order, typically face-to-face, in order for it to be viable. And it didn’t matter anyway, seeing as Mulch did not possess any magic to be bound by. So really, Charla Maine’s guidelines weren’t worth the waste he’d spewed this morning.

Mulch shrugged.

“How was I to know the kid would be standing right there when I surfaced? Not my fault. And anyway, why should I listen to you? You aren’t paying me. I don’t do jack for people who don’t pay me jack, except for my friends, and you are most definitely not one of my friends. But hey, you could be, if you wanted. I’m open to all sorts.”

The human woman tilted her head as she leered down at him, an icy smile frozen on her face.

“Oh, you will be paid, Mister Diggums. You’ll be paid with your life, after you complete this next task I’ve devised for you.”

Mulch felt a tingle of fear in his beard.

Trust the beard, he thought, always trust the beard.

But at this thought’s completion, he found himself being stabbed in the general area of his neck by some kind of injection device. The knight responsible obviously had no ideas about dwarf anatomy, and so ended up jabbing him right behind the jaw.

Mulch fell to his knees.

“D’arvit…” he groaned. “What in the name of Frond…?”

“That was your new tracking device,” Charla preened. “You won’t be able to eject this one, and don’t even think about trying to dig it out. It’s equipped with several thousand microsensors. We’ll be able to hear everything you hear, and beyond.” In her high heels she still had the range of movement to squat down to him and speak in a patronizing tone. “Now you’re going to go back to Fowl Manor like a good little spy and let us listen in to what everyone is saying. You’re going to stay there until we say you can come back. You will not contact anyone. You will not try to warn anyone. And if you move even an inch off the grounds, I will know, and I will detonate the acid charge in your tracker and kill you immediately.”

She stood once more, snapping her fingers.

“Now, be a good dwarf and get to work.”

And so Mulch spent the next two weeks spying on his friends for a woman he despised. And he hated himself thoroughly while doing so. He couldn’t hear what most anyone was saying, but Knighthood heard absolutely everything.

Holly will kill me, he thought. Artemis will kill me. The kid will kill me. Butler will most _definitely_ kill me, and then do it again in the afterlife.

 

Somehow they managed to make enough room at the luncheon table for six people, which included Foaly, Holly, Drew, Artemis, Juliet, and Butler. Commander Root absolutely refused to enter the manor. It was Foaly’s first time actually inside the building, and he was all too thrilled to remark at how creepy the atmosphere was. Like a museum, with Artemis as its crotchety old keeper. (Artemis filed away the insult deep within his memory, so that later he might stumble upon it again and remember to unleash a trickster virus into the centaur’s computer systems.)

“It might interest you to know, Mud Boy, that I’ve been developing a genius way to keep Knighthood out,” Foaly said with a mouth full of salad.

“Do tell.”

“TEWs. Targeted electromagnetic waves. A constant, spherical-shaped pulse to protect the Manor and grounds. It only affects solid forms, such as machinery or organisms, and will keep us insulated from outside radio-wave penetration and unauthorized satellite beams. It’ll be hell on the local wildlife, but I think a few hares and bugs are a small price to pay for Drew’s safety.”

Artemis nodded thoughtfully, pretending he hadn’t already created the designs for something similar.

“And speaking of Drew, how is your training coming?”

Drew cringed when the table conversation eagerly turned its multi-eyed focus to him. Regretfully, he informed the group that the development of his powers was not going as hoped.

“And here I thought it was going to be so easy to transform, after the first two times…” he moaned, laying his head down on the table in shame.

“Shouldn’t you have some kind of dragon instincts to help you?” Juliet inquired.

The draconic teen raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug.

“Meditation could be of some help. I’ve always found it to be more beneficial to the body and mind than all other activity,” Artemis put in, sipping tea.

“We can’t all be masters of zen like yourself, Arty,” Holly said as she rolled her eyes. “Maybe it’ll just take time for his abilities to stabilize.”

“Time is something we’re pressed for. In two weeks, my family will return. I grant you that’s plenty enough time for us to resolve the situation, but it will depend upon three factors. One, how quickly Drew can master his newfound power. Two, how long we have until Knighthood comes to ‘collect’ their prize. Three, how we go about launching a counterattack to put a permanent stop to this dragon-hunting business.”

“Let me and the Commanders worry about strategy,” Holly replied.

“And we have no way of knowing when we’ll next be under siege, so the only factor we may manipulate at this point is Druvidian.”

“It is a little concerning that your powers are spontaneously...absent,” Butler mentioned to his son.

Drew threw his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t look at me, man! I found out I could do this, like, three days ago. It’s not like I’ve been practicing for transforming and fire breathing and flight since I was a toddler.”

“Haven’t you?” Artemis asked, totally innocent.

“The heck are you talking about?”

“Well, you are, as you have proudly and emphatically professed, a ‘nerd.’ Are you honestly trying to tell me that as a child you never tried? Never pretended to become one and flap around your living room?”

Drew stopped cold.

He assessed his entire childhood in a single moment, then looked at his peer with narrowed eyes.

“You know what? Shut up, Artemis.”

The Irish boy smirked and went back to his tea.

“But still,” Drew continued, “even though I may have done that as a kid--which is really embarassing, thanks for pointing it out, jerk--it doesn’t mean I knew what it would feel like to _actually_ _transform_. I’ve got nothing to go on. I still can’t even figure out how I managed to cuss out the Council in **_drakzha_**.”

“The language is called ‘draconic,’ bud,” Foaly whispered off to the side.

“ **_Zne taa ste nok,_ ** ” he said back, “No it’s not. Trust me, there’s about a million new words swimming around in my head, and ‘draconic’ ain’t one of them.” (Across the way he saw Artemis flinch at his use of the non-word ‘ain’t.’ _How I live for petty revenge_ , Drew thought.) “That’s like calling the English language ‘humanspeak.’ In fact, I think you might seriously tick off one of my people if you ever said it around them.”

Then he went to take another bite of his sandwich, but stilled right before his teeth clamped down. Drew looked up, dropping the food back onto his plate.

“What’s wrong, hon?” Juliet pried, laying down her fork.

The draconic teen seemed not to hear him. Instead, his head flicked up toward the ceiling and he stared at a particular spot with glassy eyes. No, wait. He was looking at something beyond.

“Drew?” Butler said.

“I...I’m not sure,” the teen said slowly, sounding very uneasy. “There’s no sound, no vibration or scent, or anything. But I’ve got this feeling. Like...there’s somebody _up there_.”

“Up where?”

“In the _house_?” Artemis demanded.

Drew’s eyes widened.

“No. In the _sky_.”

The adults at the table all looked at each other in that instant. A message passed silently between them. An unspoken revelation.

“There’s a dragon...in the freaking _sky_!” Drew exclaimed.

Then he bolted.

Butler reached out a swift arm to hold him back, but he was two inches too far away. His next move was to follow after his son, who tore out of the room and raced down the foyer toward the front door. The others peeled out of their seats one by one to follow, hearts pounding in tandem.

“Drew!” Butler called, and a chorus of voices repeated the name.

“Wait for us!” Holly shouted.

Drew almost lost his footing on the soft grass. He pounded to a stop, less-than-average eyes searching the world above him for signs of life. His friends surrounded him, all looking to the heavens.

There.

A black spot, three thousand of feet above them at what Artemis estimated to be about a sixty-degree angle. Easily mistaken for a bird by any unsuspecting human, but not by the Fowl family and friends.

Drew beamed like Christmas, awed, disbelieving.

Holly whipped a pair of magnifying sunglasses out of a pouch secured to her belt, scrolling the wheel on the side until the dragon’s shape came into focus. It was a male: yellow-green and teal scales with red accents and horns. The sight of his majestic form arcing through the air stole the breath from her lungs.

“ _Gods…_ ” she breathed, “ _It’s_ _Kortallen_.”

“What is he doing here?” Butler asked. “How did he find us?”

“That’s my dad?” Drew demanded, heart fluttering. He looked to Holly for answers, pointing into the sky with a single finger.

When the elf nodded in response, he let go of his inhibitions. Instinct fuelled him now - there was no room for anything else in his control center. He took off down the hill, and as he ran his body sprouted draconic elements. The others called out to him, urging him not to approach.

“ _Drew, wait!_ ”

“ _You don’t know if it’s safe!!_ ”

But by the time their words reached him he was launching into the air in full dragonoid form.

Flight was the most exhilarating thing he’d ever felt or done. There was nothing beneath him but open space, and nothing holding him up but the strength of his juvenile wings.

He was terrified, and for the first time in his life he loved the fact.

Stroke after stroke, Drew propelled himself higher into the atmosphere. The wind’s caress, a ghostly cocoon, enveloped him and guided him onward. The particles slipped past his polished scales as though in a jetstream.

His reptilian eyes settled on Kortallen, who soared ever nearer. After seeing his second paternal figure for the first time, Drew was mildly conflicted over whether to be afraid or excited. His brain decided on a compromise of both.

Still, he kept going.

Kortallen didn’t see him yet, but as he drew closer the feeling of him strengthened. (Was this some kind of homing instinct for adolescent dragons?) When Drew was nearing his father’s altitude, he tested the waters by letting out a throaty trumpet and a little chirrup.

The elder dragon whipped his head around toward the sound, and in that instant he was so startled that he nearly fell out of the sky. His altitude dropped several feet before he was able to right himself. He snorted, drawing up to a sharp stop. His eyes glowed, a hazel spectrum of colors.

The two approached each other cautiously, hovering around in a circular dance of mutual awareness. Drew was smaller, definitely, and obviously the lesser-experienced flier. He flapped around aimlessly, excitement coloring his movements like that of a puppy delighted by its owner’s return.

“ **_Mahdir!_ ** ” his draconic mouth pronounced. _Parent._

Kortallen was taken aback. He reared his head up.

“ **_Iktas Kortallen. Wraulen aak za bevi aansta, kiimuna? Zhoak za?_ ** ” _I am Kortallen. What are you doing here, little one? Who are you?_

“ **_Iktas Druvidian!_ ** ” _I’m Druvidian!_

“ **_Druvidian?_ ** ” Kortallen repeated, not recognizing the name.

“ **_Iktas zava kiimune!_ ** ” _I’m your child!_

The elder dragon retreated back a few tail-lengths, disbelieving. He swung his head back and forth. No.

“ **_Tasa nok iindvrai,_ ** ” Kortallen said forcefully. He sounded almost offended. _That’s not possible._

“ **_Dibien ka dzhayan za._ ** ” _Then let me show you._

Drew then surrendered to his transformation, and his body shrank down to its semi-humanoid form. For a second he almost lost his balance, but recovered. Bravely he flew up in front of his father’s snout. Wearing only a black t-shirt and jeans.

Kortallen analyzed the child’s facial features. Immediately he recognized them, knowing that no others of their race shared ones similar. But he couldn’t understand it.

This child wasn’t supposed to be alive. They had been destroyed by Knighthood a few days after birth.

Hadn’t they?

Kortallen stammered, “ **_Ya...ya psychra za, kiimuna..._ ** ” _I...I know you, little one..._ “ **_Vor mehd za vyvain?_ ** ” _But how? How are you alive?_

“ **_Yapsychran,_ ** ” Drew admitted. _I don’t know._

“ **_Aan za soly?_ ** ” _Are you alone?_

 _“_ **_Zne, mahdir. Kyraion va!_ ** _” No, parent. Follow me!_

 

Then Drew dove, and Kortallen followed warily after. From their grounded vantage point, the others though it looked like the elder dragon was bearing down on his own son. Butler steeled himself for the oncoming assault. Commander Root and his officers (finally) scrambled up the hill, utterly dumbstruck by what they were witnessing.

Drew nearly nose-dove into the dirt.

He crashed and rolled, wings flapping feebly, claws ripping up the grass while he struggled to attain purchase. He righted himself just in time to be scooped up into Butler’s iron arms, and submitted to being thoroughly checked over for signs of trauma.

“I’m okay, Dad,” the teen insisted, face flushed.

Kortallen’s massive, fourteen-foot-tall dragonoid form landed a moment later, limbs connecting with the ground like jackhammers. The red-horned beast reared his head and wings, tail coiling. He let out a bellow, clearly announcing himself.

Fairy and human alike cowed at the sight of him.

The dragon lowered his head, gaze passing from person to person. He assessed them all for a sign of threat (as if any here could be counted as a threat to him), growling all the while and narrowing his glowing eyes. The LEP officers reached for their weapons, just in case. Butler moved to shield Artemis and Drew with his body.

Drew darted out from cover to stand between Kortallen and his friends.

“It’s okay!” he declared, holding out his hands. “It’s okay, they’re not dangerous! **_Iist benyavr!_ ** ”

Kortallen lowered his head over Drew protectively, stepping closer. He furled his wings up against his sides, seeming to relax.

“This is Commander Root of the LEP,” Drew said, pointing, “That’s Captain Holly Short, Captain Aspen, Captain Hawker, Corporal Steel, and Corporal Hickory, and their technical consultant, Foaly.”

Root spoke up before Drew could introduce the rest. “A few weeks ago we rescued your son from a swarm of goblins that was sent by Knighthood to apprehend him. Since then, it has been our task to protect him.” That was the way to announce yourself to a nervous dragon - name, rank, and intention.

Kortallen raised his head back up. Assessed some more.

Without warning, he reared up onto his back legs. The LEP officers drew their weapons, but it wasn’t necessary. The dragon threw his wings wide, letting their colors display while he transformed into a semi-humanoid figure.

He looked no different from the picture in Foaly’s database, right down to the challenging eyes and raging, dark red hair. The blade from his dragonoid form transferred over, protruding from the center of his skull and splitting his hairline right down the middle. He wore a sleeveless coat of the same scarlet hue that went down to his knees and was belted across his stomach. Black bands were secured around his biceps, wrists, and ankles. His ears were punctured through with tapered gauges. His feet remained dragonoid while his wings and tail were fused with his clothes at the very base.

From his seven-foot-plus height, Kortallen leered down at them with a toothy grin.

“Well,” he said, “thanks for that. I’m Kortallen.”

His voice was sharp, and it carried an American accent with hard consonants and a twinge of Finnish. He directed his focus to Root with a mechanical turn of the head.

“It’s been one hell of a long time since the last time I saw an elf,” he admitted good-naturedly, “but I do recognize you, Commander, from back when you were _Dragonologist_ Root. It’s nice to see you again. Where’s the rest of your squadron?”

“Dead,” Root grunted.

If Kortallen was dismayed by this news, he didn’t show it.

“I suspected as much…. You lost as many as we did in the final battle in Norway. But…who are _these_ people? Last time I checked, I don’t recall that _humans_ were listed among potential allies…” he added with a light growl, eyes sliding suspiciously toward Artemis and the Butlers.

Root was quick to speak. “The pale boy is our host,”

“Artemis Fowl the Second,” the Irish boy interrupted.

“...and the other two are his bodyguards. Siblings.”

“Hmph.” Kortallen said softly. He didn’t waste his time on the humans, favoring instead his son. He viewed the draconic teen affectionately, if hesitantly. “So...this is a weird situation. Where exactly have _you_ been for the past seventeen years, **_vakiimune_ **?”

“Stuck in an abusive household, no thanks to you,” Drew said, but he tried not to sound upset. “And where the hell have _you_ been?”

Kortallen cringed.

“I’m really sorry about that, kiddo. Druvidian. To tell the truth, I had no idea you were still alive. If I had, trust me, I wouldn’t have let you stay there.”

“And what do you intend to do now?” the largest human rumbled.

Kortallen looked at him critically. “What’s it to you? It’s not like Druvidian’s _your_ child.”

Butler squared his shoulders, eyes challenging. “Actually, he is. I am called Butler, and I’m the human whose genetics you siphoned off to create him.”

The dragon stuck his head up and his eyes widened in alarm. He sucked in a breath.

“Well...shit.”

Then he looked to Root. “They’re not supposed to know about that. They’re _humans_.”

“This is a new era, Kortallen,” Root insisted. “Humans are slowly but surely coming into contact with the People. These ones in particular have proven to have good intentions - they’ve helped us to save Haven and Atlantis multiple times now. They would not give your species’ secrets to Knighthood, or to any other. You have my word.”

Kortallen breathed, suspicious. His needle-thin pupils scanned Butler’s.

This human’s aura was ultimately powerful, more so than any other he’d ever felt. He was dangerous, surely, but his aura also suggested that his first priority was to protect. Both Druvidian and the Artemis boy.

“Uh, Kortallen,” Drew said hesitantly as he stepped forward, “Dad. The only reason I’m still alive and healthy enough to be talking to you is that Butler was able to get me here. With the help of the others. Really, they’re ok.”

“I suppose coming from Dragonologist Root _and_ you, it must be true,” Kortallen decided. “But I don’t like the thought of you staying here any longer. Knighthood’s getting braver by the day - they’re actively seeking us out now. I’ve had three of my best friends taken in the past week.” The delivery of this news had an obvious effect on him.

 _So Kortallen and Druvidian aren’t the last_ , Artemis thought, _just as I suspected_.

Drew tried his best to explain, “Foaly’s designing an electromagnetic pulse to keep them off the grounds, and I’ve been working on developing my powers.”

Kortallen shook his head.

“I don’t want to chance it. Please, Druvidian, come with me.”

“Come...where?”

“ ** _Zhronyega_** **_Veranova,_** ” Kortallen said proudly, “Stronghold Solace. The last of our safe communities, based in China.”

Drew paled. “China?” he repeated.

“Yep. I mean, where else could we go? The eastern countries are the only ones where dragons aren’t hunted relentlessly. Instead, we’re seen as a sign of good luck. To be protected. And the locals keep their distance, as per the terms of a thousands-year-old contract.” Kortallen sighed. “Just come back with me, **_kiimune_**. I want to get to know you, somewhere I can teach you and let you grow with the rest of our species. Please.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. Drew knew where he wanted to be - Fowl Manor.

He shook his head.

“No.”

“And what if you didn’t have a choice?” Kortallen challenged.

Drew’s first instinct was to growl and raise his wings, but he decided he would do this diplomatically.

“No, you know what? No. You’re not just going to rip me away from my life and drag me halfway around the world for reasons of ‘safety,’” he said, punctuating the last word with finger quotes. “It already happened to me once, and that time it was fine, but I’m not gonna let it happen a second time. If you care about me, if you _really do_ want to get to know me, you’re going to do it here, at Fowl Manor, alongside the man you used to help make me.”

For a second, Kortallen looked like he might say something regretful. But he stopped himself. He glared up at Butler, who met his gaze with confidence. Against his instincts, he relented.

“Fine,” he growled.

Then he stalked off, and Drew bounded after him. The sound of their conversation continued into the distance, while the rest let out a collective sigh of relief.

“That went well,” Juliet remarked.

“Speak for yourself,” Foaly whinnied, “I may or may not have just fertilized the lawn.”

(Kortallen so pwetty :3)


	10. A Million And One Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kortallen isn’t going to waste any time teaching Drew about their species, and tbh the kid is a massive dragon fanboy anyway. (Dragons with wifi lol) This chapter focuses a lot more on Butler and Artemis’s relationship, now that they’ve both suffered some heavy blows from The Last Guardian. Arty’s worried that Butler might not be around for a whole lot longer. A cute cooking scene ensues. And then Kortallen throws a fit b/c he catches Drew doing something that dragons aren’t really supposed to be able to do. (Yer not gonna be able to stop him, Kort, just sayin...) And Drew forces his dads to talk things out. 
> 
> Soundtrack 10: “How Big How Blue How Beautiful” by Florence and the Machine.

“The Commander told me that our species is built for war,” Drew began excitedly, struggling to reign in the mountain of questions that bubbled up on the edge of his tongue, “but that we only use our powers for peace. Is that true?”

Kortallen nodded. “Sure is, kiddo.”

The elder dragon wasted no time patrolling the outermost border of the grounds, familiarizing himself with the new territory he was being mandatorily confined to. Drew buzzed around him like a little fly, shifting unconsciously between his humanoid and semi-humanoid forms. Unbeknownst to him, he was onset with a new batch of endorphins that were exclusive to the draconic race, which made adolescent dragons hyperactive when seeing their parent for the first time, or seeing them after a long period of separation. (But mostly it was just the sudden realization that _oh my god I’m talking to a real live dragon this is insane!!!_ While failing to realize that he, too, was a real live dragon.)

“We’re gifted for battle, but we lack the heart for it,” Kortallen continued. “On principle, the thought of combat makes our horns ache.”

“And what about you?”

The elder dragon grinned. “Well, I won’t lie, razing buildings to the ground with flame is a great pastime. Really lets off steam.”

“Can you teach me how to use my fire? Is all dragonfire blue, or can it be green? I’ve always pictured dragons as having all different colors of fire,” Drew babbled.

“The most common is blue, but some can have green or red or white,” Kortallen explained. “In fact, I once knew a woman who had _black_ fire. Eyanova. Ah, she was a riot.”

“Sounds like our species is a pretty tight-knit group.”

“Hard not to be when there’s just over a hundred of us left.”

“Do you guys have wifi at your stronghold?” Drew asked, randomly changing the subject. “Because I’m going to be honest, that’s a real deal-breaker for me. _If_ I was going to live there.”

Kortallen stopped.

He gave his son a peculiar look. “Do you seriously think a bunch of centuries-old dragons have wifi in the middle of a mountain cavern in rural China?”

Drew shrugged.

“Well, do you?”

Kortallen giggled. “Yeah.”

“Hey, how come you don’t seem very shocked by the fact that I’m alive?” Drew changed the subject again. “You’ve only just found out I still exist, and yet it’s like you’re completely comfortable with me.”

The elder dragon resumed walking as he elaborated, “Familial ties are obscenely powerful among dragons. There’s a kinship between us like no other species. We’re all basically one giant family unit, and friendships are as good as blood bonds. As soon as we find out about a new member, acceptance is pretty much instantaneous.”

“Cool.”

“And something you’ll find out about us, Druvidian, is that there’s an exception to that rule of passivity - there’s only one reason that a dragon will ever turn on someone, and that’s if they harm one of our family. If you kill a dragon’s family, there’s no question about it. You’re going to die.”

“I’m guessing you’ve made good on that promise before?” Drew said.

“Yeah,” Kortallen replied seriously, “when I thought you’d died.”

The younger dragon lowered his eyes to the grass, unsure of how to reply. There were no more questions after that.

 

So, that was that. Kortallen officially took up residence at Fowl Manor, electing to live, sleep, and remain in the gardens, largely in his full dragonoid form. He never deigned to adopt a fully humanoid visage, Artemis noticed. The centuries-old **_oberon_ ** (which was the dragon’s word for an adult of their species, and also coincidentally the name of the fairy king in Shakespeare’s _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ ) sometimes substituted reptilian feet for mammalian, or relinquished his wings for ease of movement, but kept his proud horns and his bladed tail.

He also took charge of the responsibility of his son’s training, in the place of Commander Root. It was just as well, the elf detested being out in the open when Knighthood was still at large. Especially considering which human’s property he was camping on.

There was a clear divide between Kortallen and his fellow parent. Butler went about his daily routine, and Kortallen avoided him. Appeared to, anyhow. Really, he was analyzing him, keeping one attentive, slitted eye on him at all times. The human was big enough to do some damage to Druvidian (or Drew, as the **_kiimune_ ** liked to be called) if he had the motivation.

Kortallen would have liked to pretend that his tail didn’t coil up and his muscles didn’t tense whenever he saw Butler get within breathing distance of Drew.

He wasn’t a very good actor.

Butler saw the **_oberon_ ** ’s subtle shifts in posture when said interactions occurred. He knew Kortallen was intimidated by him, and rightly so, but Butler would have been lying if he’d said the feeling wasn’t mutual. Not that he’d ever tell anyone.

Out of respect, he tried to keep physical contact with Drew at bare minimum. It wasn’t easy, what with Drew constantly bouncing around practicing his powers or showing off his latest drawing. And the teen absolutely loved hugs.

A few mornings later, however, Butler had a different teen to focus on.

 

Artemis woke himself at five o'clock in the morning, sharp. He dressed himself in somewhat casual attire, knowing that what he had to do would be messy, at best. Butler would be finished with his physical exertions by now, and would be preparing breakfast for the entire household. (And thank gods they’d finally got Mulch’s stench out of the refrigerator.)

The Irish boy unlocked his door, tip-toeing down the hall. Down the stairs. Steady, now. Don’t want to wake anybody up…

Artemis paused at the entrance to the kitchen, hesitating. The golden light brushed the tips of his loafers, inviting, while the rest of him was shadowed. There was still time to turn back.

 _What are you waiting for_ , he chided himself, _he’s employed to you, for heaven’s sake. Just get on with it._

This was something he’d been thinking of doing for weeks now. A long time for him to make a decision, he knew, but tension was rising, and Knighthood might arrive at any moment. Ever since he’d risen from the grave, Artemis had been giving an awful lot of thought on the subject of life in general. What did he want to do with his? Everybody dies, he’d thought, and I already have. So did Butler.

So which one of us is next?

How long do we have?

How long does anybody have?

He stopped himself before those thoughts saturated the rest of his pristine brain, sending all three statements to the metaphorical rubbish bin. I shouldn’t think about that now, he told himself.

A cleared throat and a soft knock on the wood frame was all it took to announce his presence.

“Artemis,” Butler said, looking over from his savory bowl of ingredients. “This isn’t your typical morning haunt.”

“Do I haunt, Butler?” he smiled with a touch of amusement.

 _Yes, my mind,_ the giant manservant thought as he mixed, _every waking hour of every day_. But instead of voicing this thought, he said, “Some might say so. Can I ask what’s brought you down here? Having the hunger pangs of a teenage male?”

Artemis sighed. Deeply. It was a sigh from the soul.

“Thankfully not. What I’ve come to say is...well, to ask...I want to tell you...ah….”

“You’re muttering,” Butler stated, releasing his grip on the spoon. “Artemis Fowl the Second doesn’t mutter. Come on, what’s the matter?”

There were about a million and one things Artemis could have said in response, all of them relevant, and all true. _I want to spend more time with you,_ he thought, _doing things that you like doing, rather than drag you across the globe on one escapade after the next until the day you die._ But there was too much all at once, too much to admit at this point in time. Better to save the confessions for a deeper, later conversation.

The Fowl heir balled his fists at his sides and let his eyebrows demonstrate his determination.

“Butler, I want you to teach me how to cook.”

Butler blinked.

He set the glass bowl down on the counter, letting it clank carelessly. A choir sang in his head, marking down the moment in his memory forever.

 _Good lord_ , he thought, _after all these years, finally this child wants to learn something practical._

“You don’t think I’ll be able to,” Artemis said, misreading his reaction. “Fair enough.”

He turned to leave.

“What? Gods, Artemis, of _course_ I’ll teach you,” Butler said quickly. “Why on earth do you think I wouldn’t?”

“Obviously you have better things to do with your time, and so do I. Probability would have it that I’ll muck everything up. It’s just as well, I’ve never once made anything edible in my life. Wouldn’t want to poison the household…”

“No, stop that,” Butler ordered. One of the rare times he gave his employer an order. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

Artemis struggled to find words.

His bodyguard came over and laid a heavy hand on each of his shoulder. “I’ll teach you anything you want, anytime. It’s part of my job, after all, and never let it be said that I pampered my principal so much that he can’t even feed himself. Now...if you’re really that set on cooking, come over here and help me put the ingredients together.”

Butler gave his charge the duty of measuring out spices. A mathematical task, something he knew Artemis could do. The Irish boy tried his hand at mixing, but the substance in the bowl was like concrete compared to his feeble arms. The methods and instructions were foreign to him (he had to be shown how to crack an egg, poor sod), but in the end their combined efforts produced a good-sized meal. It wasn’t exactly five-star quality, but it was, without a doubt, edible.

They made rolls, eggs, bacon, fruit tarts, and vegan sausages for their fairy guests. The thick, delectable smell of it wafted all through the house, waking everyone in a lethargic sequence.

Drew was first, rolling out of bed and blindly making his way down the stairs, guided by his nose and his stomach. The growl of his insides announced him before anything else. Half asleep and still groggy, the draconic teen yawned and poured a glass of milk.

“Hey, Dad….” he said, yawning again.

It was only then that he saw his father was not alone.

“.... _Artemis_ ? You _cook_?”

The Irish boy smiled genuinely, raising a spoon in greeting. A red apron was tied around his waist, splattered with egg matter and flour. His face was decorated the same, but he looked like he was enjoying himself. He looked positively _elated_.

“So it seems, my friend. Butler, here, has generously taken the time to tutor me in his skills. My first attempt, I believe, others might describe as ‘ _not bad._ ’”

“Oh, I’ll be the judge of that,” Drew grinned, reaching across the counter for a roll. “Did you make these?”

“It was a joint effort,” Butler said, “but those were mostly Artemis’s, yes.”

Drew raised an eyebrow. He snatched up the nearest roll, tenderly broke it in half, and, still piping hot, he stuffed one end of it in his mouth.

The dough melted in his mouth, and he practically melted onto the counter.

“ _Oh my god...._ ” Drew moaned, laying his head down in defeat, “ _So yummy…_ ”

Artemis practically beamed, but he shoved down his emotions.

“Well...it was merely an initial trial. Nothing special.”

“Shu up, ith freakig delicious,” Drew scolded with a mouthful of food. Then he swallowed and took another bite.

Holly came down next, somehow looking like a supermodel despite having just woken up. Ironically, she wore a t-shirt that read “I Woke Up Like This.” The elf yawned theatrically, stretching one arm up to the sky like a cat.

“ _Guten morgen,_ ” she said, showing off her gift of languages.

“ _Bore da_ ,” Artemis replied in Welsh.

She did a double take. “Mud boy, what the heck are _you_ doing in the kitchen? With access to other people’s _food_?”

Drew grabbed another roll and shoved it in her face. “Shut up and eat this masterpiece!”

Holly did, skeptically. But as soon as she obeyed, her reaction was the same as Drew’s.

“Okay, Arty, you’re off the hook.” She sniffed. “Are those vegan sausages?”

And so the cycle went on, with Juliet next, and then Foaly. Each loaded up their plates with food, so completely enthralled with the meal and the revelation of Artemis’s newfound talent that they hardly spoke.

Near the end, when it was just Drew and Butler left, Kortallen wandered in. His arrival was coupled with uncomfortable silence, so heavy one could have heard a pin drop. Butler sat up in his seat, eyeing the dragon cautiously. Kortallen eyed him back just the same. It seemed there was going to be no conversation between them.

When Kortallen’s brain registered the image of his son shovelling food into his mouth, he let out an involuntary draconic shriek and just about had a stroke. His hands came up above his head, forming claws.

“ _What are you doing?!_ ” the **_oberon_ ** demanded, eyes painfully wide.

Drew looked up, and both he and Butler raised a bewildered brow.

“I’m. _Eating_ ,” he said, hefting up an egg-laden fork, “You know, _food?_ ” Then he shoved the utensil into his mouth.

Kortallen raced over, frantic.

“ _Why?!_ ”

“Because I’m hungry!”

The elder dragon waved his arm toward the nearest door. “ _Then go outside!_ ”

Drew stared at his father blankly.

“How the hell is that going to help me?”

Kortallen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dragons don’t need food to survive. We don’t eat. Our scales absorb energy from sunlight, that’s all we ever need. You’re overloading your system with digestible materials.”

Drew processed the information for a moment. Thinking back, he realized that anytime he’d spent the day out in the sun, he’d never gotten hungry. And on days when he holed up in his room doing nothing, he was absolutely ravenous.

When the penny dropped, so did his fork.

“Wait...is _that_ why I always had stomach problems as a kid?”

Kortallen bobbed his head furiously. “Yeah, you were basically forcing your body to use an organ it wasn’t meant to use. So, before you poison yourself further, you should maybe quit eating.”

Drew grabbed his plate, wrenching it away to safety. “Nuh-uh! Nobody’s going to come between me and food!”

The **_oberon_ ** sighed, crossing his arms. “I mean...I guess if your body’s adjusted to eating it, it’s probably fine. It’s not ideal, but…”

Drew eyed his father balefully.

“If you think you’re going to stop me, you are sadly mistaken, good sir.”

Kortallen sighed again.

“Are you just about done, then? I was going to help you with your fire today.”

The younger dragon looked at his plate, suspecting that Kortallen was just using that as an excuse get him to stop eating, and then looked at Butler. The giant manservant nodded towards the door.

“Go on, then,” he said, standing, “I’ll clean up this time.”

Guilty, Drew nodded back and pranced after his draconic parent.

“So, something I want to do with you today is debunk most of the myths you may have heard about our species,” Kortallen began once they were outside. “Since you were raised by humans instead of us, there’s a lot of misinformation you’ll have been introduced to.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Alright. To start with, no, we don’t abduct royalty. That’s just bad manners, and it’s hard to keep a hostage when you don’t know how to feed them. The only time we’ve had to do that is to negotiate an exchange for one of our own that humans had already taken. Oh, and another thing, we don’t hatch out of eggs. We’re more like mammals, in that regard.”

“Then who made up _that_ myth?” Drew asked.

Kortallen shrugged.

“Humans invent stories about us all the time. Most of the known legends are just that - inventions. In fact, ninety-nine percent of the time, knights would stir up trouble just to pit the locals against us. You know Saint George? Killed one of our young in secret and used the casualties from the mother’s resulting rampage to justify publicly getting his ‘revenge’ on her.”

Drew scowled. “That’s disgusting.”

“That it is,” the **_oberon_ ** replied dourly. “And here’s another disgusting myth that got a lot of us killed for nothing; we don’t hoard gold simply because we like to sleep on it like greedy bankers.”

“But...we _do_ hoard it?”

“Yes, but only because it serves a very crucial function of our survival.”

“And what function is that?”

“Light, Drew. Light. When we’re forced to live in the musty dark of caves for the duration of our lives, gold’s luster is the only thing that keeps us sustained. When we carve out nests, we create hundreds of these intricate tunnels wherein light can filter and infinitely reflect off of gold plates until it reaches the main cavern. And while there _are_ other metals we could use, gold is the most viable.”

Drew absorbed these words and let his mind paint a fantastic picture - an enormous cavern, big enough for hundreds to fly in, positively glowing with gold and murky blue-green light. His eyes sparkled with the prospect.

“Is hoarding a natural instinct that can be substituted with other things besides gold?” he pondered out loud.

“It can be. Why?”

“Because I have, like, a metric ton of necklaces I never wear. And artwork. And music. And ceramic statues. And dragon plushies….”

Kortallen grinned affectionately. “Sounds like the kind of stuff some of us hoard when we’re younger, yeah. Anyway, I think that’s enough questions for now. Let’s get to practicing.”

 

The fiery hues of evening had already painted the sky by the time Drew managed to produce flame. This accomplishment, however, marked him as fairly adept - few young dragons achieved **_pyravis_ ** so early on in their development. Kortallen’s eyes glowed with pride.

“ **_Erendior!_ ** ” he declared as Drew exhaled a thin stream of blue fire. _Excellent_.

Drew grinned, his mouth lit from within. The flame felt cold in his throat, like he was being simultaneously scorched and frozen., and it bubbled up from inside his second pair of lungs (which, apparently, he’d had since birth). But somehow it was a familiar sensation.

He retracted the blaze back down his esophagus.

“That was brilliant, Druvidian,” Kortallen praised. “If you keep practicing, pretty soon you’ll be able to do this-”

The **_oberon_ ** summoned up a blue-green fireball into his mouth and held up his hands to it, shaping his lips so that a controlled stream engulfed both sets of talons. His hands caught fire at once.

Then he held them out at his sides, letting the twin infernos grow. They danced in his palms, fingers playing absently. Tendrils of fire shot out, and as he moved his arms in a trance, they contorted into shapes and symbols and caricatures of dragons. They exploded out over the grounds, thrilling and chilling the locals at the same time. But it wasn’t so much of a shock - after so many years, they’d gotten used to strange sights around the Fowl Estate, up to and including a pixie’s apocalypse. Twice.

Drew laughed, eyes dazzling in the light.

“Your fire _is_ green!” he cried. “I knew it!”

Kortallen grinned.

But his face fell immediately when he saw the shape of Butler, trudging across the lawn, no doubt to collect their son for dinner. Not that he enjoyed thinking of Drew as “theirs.” As far as he was concerned, Drew was his and only his. The human had nothing to do with it other than a genetic component.

The elder dragon scowled, stiffening. His eyes scathed Butler from head to toe as he approached.

Drew, on the other hand, had no such inclinations. He ran right up to his human father and locked them both into a hug.

“How is your fire coming?” Butler asked, subtly trying to pry him off.

“Great! Watch.”

The draconic teen turned his throat into a cavern, letting the icy heat bathe his insides and billow up into his mouth. When he grinned, the light made his teeth glow eerily.

“Nicely done,” Butler praised. “But try not to spew it all over the house during dinner. I don’t think Artemis or his parents will forgive you if you turn their museum into cinders.”

Drew rolled his eyes sarcastically.

Kortallen cleared his throat. Forcefully. “I guess that’s all for today, Druvidian. Go enjoy your...food.”

The draconic teen stepped back to look at both of his parental figures. His eyes flicked between them as if to suggest something.

“I will. And while I’m at it...you two are going to have a nice chat.”

The mood changed drastically.

“Excuse me?” both Kortallen and Butler said at once, realizing that their child had basically just given an order. Then they exchanged a glower.

Drew crossed his arms.

“Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to be around you two right now? As soon as I get close to one of you, the other stalks off. It’s like walking on eggshells. You guys hardly even know each other. So whatever it is you have against each other, it’s nothing that can’t be solved with a conversation.”

Kortallen reared his head back. “I don’t think that’s advisable.”

“Then what do you plan on doing? You’re not just going to avoid each other like this for the rest of your lives. Just talk this out like _rational_ adults.”

Then he left, trekking up the hill while casting glances back to make sure his fathers weren’t just going to run off. What he really wanted was to grab them both by the arm and put them in time out, as though he were the parent and they the disobedient, squabbling children. They’d been no better than such.

Butler shut his eyes and sighed. When they opened, his aging gaze met level with Kortallen’s. They stared at each other, waves of tension pouring out and colliding in the space between them. The **_oberon_ ** blew out a puff of air.

“Fine, _Butler_ ,” he hissed, “Let’s _talk_.”

Kortallen stalked down a row of the gardens, and Butler followed. They matched pace, electric hatred sparking between them. The giant manservant made several observations about the way Kortallen walked.

His gait was stiff yet graceful, muscles tensed as if any moment he might need to spring away to safety. His hands twitched with the urge to curl into fists, but he refrained, and his jaw clenched so tightly it clicked. His tail flicked about with exaggerated motions. Clearly he did not feel comfortable or safe around Butler. The **_oberon_ ** stopped at the end of the row, roses bursting around them in the dull light. His eyes glowed down at Butler’s own with a cocktail of emotions - hatred, confusion, vexation, and above all, intimidation.

“You terrify me,” he burst at once. “Alright? I’m going to be honest about that. You scare...the _hell_...out of me.”

Now that that was over with, they both breathed a little easier.

“I think it’s safe to say that’s mutual,” Butler rumbled.

Kortallen took a step closer.

“No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand how many friends I’ve lost...seen torn apart by humans who look _exactly_ like you. And you’re bigger and scarier than the lot. Do you understand how much restraint it took for me not to lash out and put an end to you when I first flew down and saw you holding Druvidian?”

Butler did understand. He nodded once.

It was a feeling very much like what he went through every time Artemis had gotten them into a crisis - that feeling that he was responsible for everything that happened to the Irish boy, and that despite his presence, Artemis was perpetually in danger from everyone and everything.

“Then why did you still insist on being so close to him?” Kortallen demanded.

“I kept my distance as best I could without coming off as rude,” Butler retorted. “But Drew is...clingy. And he’s still my son.”

The dragon looked away, feeling ashamed.

“...You were a means to an end. That’s always how it is.”

“A means to an end,” Butler repeated. His eyes hardened, and his voice got dangerously low. “Yes, that’s what I thought. But tell me, **_oberon_ ** , did you ever stop to think that the humans you use may not _want_ to be used? Do you never ask any of us for our opinions? For our consent? How can you hate me so much when it was _you_ that violated _me_?”

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t choose you either!” Kortallen barked.

Butler narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“The process...when we decide to have a child, the process is automatic. During an uncertain period of time, our bodies filter the atmosphere to find the strongest genetics available. Whichever human will produce the strongest child, whether through intelligence or physical fitness, to best equip them to survive. Survival of the fittest.” He gestured at Butler, adding weakly, “...and, quite obviously, that was you.”

The giant manservant redirected his attention away from Kortallen, staring absently at the roses. Was that true?

“So you had no idea who I was.”

“No. I don’t even know where _I_ was, when it happened. Could have been anywhere, anytime. We might have seen each other in the street, or I could have picked up your skin cells on the wind. Either way, it wasn’t a conscious decision.”

“But you did decide, knowing that you would be hijacking some poor, unsuspecting idiot’s genes?”

Kortallen lowered his head a few inches. “This is the only way we survive. We’ve evolved not to procreate with other fairies, which includes other dragons as well. The bloodlines are too tangled up because there’s so few of us. And there isn’t really a culture of dragon-human parenting in our society. You’re just…”

Butler breathed, expression softening. “A means to an end.”

“Yeah.”

Butler looked at him for a long time. Kortallen sighed and closed his eyes, turning his head up to the sky for guidance and comfort.

“I don’t want to hate you,” he admitted. “This is a vastly unprecedented situation, which neither of us was prepared for.” The dragon laughed. “I really thought you were a knight, at first glance.”

“Forgive me if I intimidated you,” Butler said wryly, “but you came off fairly threatening, yourself.”

“Did I? That’s a relief.”

“Kortallen.”

The **_oberon_ ** looked back down at him. Butler paused for a moment - he wasn’t used to being looked down at. He was always the one looking down at others. That was the part of Kortallen that made _him_ nervous.

He said, “I am no knight. I have never been aligned with them, and if I was, I would have broken that alliance as soon as they threatened my son and my friends. And all I want is to drive my fist right through their leader’s, Charla Maine’s, face.”

Kortallen chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem doing that.”

“Would you care to do it with me?”

Kortallen’s eyes changed, pupils for the first time switching from reptilian slits to humanoid orbs. Just that one transformation softened his entire expression. He regarded Butler cooly, but without contempt.

“Yes. I think I would.”


	11. Going, Going, Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad because I kind of turned Juliet into a 2-dimensional background character… In the beginning, she was supposed to be more of the “Vodka Aunt,” same as Holly. Not to worry, she comes back later. It just got too complicated, having so many characters (because I like having an army of them. Tee-hee.) Kortallen has some info on Knighthood to share, and Drew misses his best friend (guess who, Mary? :3). Then the jerk squad comes back to wreak havoc, Kortallen gets seriously hurt, and Drew goes bye-bye. Not like dead, or anything. Gone. You know what I mean. 
> 
> Soundtrack 11: “Flora” by Falling Up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name to pronounce:  
> Merianth = MERRY-anth

_ Artemis’s study, for the umpteenth time _

 

“Something seems off,” Holly commented, curling her knees up to her chest. “It’s been two weeks since Drew came back aboveground. One would think that Knighthood would have come back for him by now. Thanks gods Juliet’s working to keep your parents in Finland longer, but why is it necessary? What are they waiting for?”

“Let me tell you something I’ve learned about knights,” Kortallen said as he leaned against the wall. “There’s a very... _ religious... _ reason for everything they do. If they’re waiting, it’s most likely because there’s some ritual or custom they have to fulfill.”

“Then what are  _ we  _ waiting for? Why not strike while they’re in limbo about it?”

Root grumbled over his cigar, “Now that the news outlets have gotten their sticky fingers on the dragon situation, they’re like roaches. Scampering all over the place, looking for that next bit of news. They’ve got the council under a microscope right now, and the council, consequently, isn’t going to approve anything we want to do.”

“Council Smouncil,” Foaly whinnied. “Since when do we do anything council-approved?”

“Our centaurian friend maintains a valid point,” Artemis said, “but we’d be lucky to mount an assault. Knighthood is leaps ahead of any other company in terms of technology, thanks to their interactions with goblins. We must assume they know how to bypass shielding, as well as our communications and similar.”

All fairies present took a moment to power through the stages of fear and grief. Root’s face turned ruddy with the concept.

He chewed his cigar to a pulp.

“We’ve suspected this for a while now. Hard as we’ve tried to keep it covered up, the civilians in Haven are picking up on it. Surface trips are getting dangerous. Some of my officers have been long overdue for the Ritual. I can’t even imagine how dire it must be for others.”

“They won’t expose you,” Kortallen said, matter-of-fact.

“How can you possibly know that?” Root demanded.

“Commander, do you not remember? All of the history of Knighthood? They have no direct quarrel with what they see as ‘traditional’ fairies, which is you lot. They are to dragons what the KKK is to people of color.”

Artemis piped up. Well, “piping up” isn’t exactly how he might have described it, were he the author of his own story, which he obviously is not, but nevertheless that is what he did.

“This is true, as far as my research has been able to confirm,” he said. “Knights, for their discriminations, are apathetic toward all fairies that are the epitome of what you’d find under the category of ‘fairy’ in myth. Demons, dragons, and krakens are evil, while gnomes, elves, sprites, dwarves, and pixies are pests who provide little trouble unless provoked. And goblins, we now know, they consider drones who can be dealt with for labor and deed. So therefore I believe it is safe to presume that Knighthood will not use its knowledge of the fairy folk as a whole to their advantage.”

Holly shook her head, ears swaying with the motion.

“We still can’t let them continue on with the knowledge they have. Julius, what is Commander Vinyáya doing right now?”

Root smacked the desk in his makeshift office. He still refused to enter the house.

“It’s not  _ Julius _ , Short, it’s  _ Commander!  _ And the Wing Commander is still jumping through hoops to get Weatherbrook’s head out of his rear, to no effect. He’s got the rest of the Council on a leash.”

Holly sighed, pinching the bridge of her hooked nose. “Honestly, how do these people ever come into power?”

Artemis took a breath to stabilize himself - they were getting very far off-topic.

“How they do it is irrelevant at this point in time,” he cut in. “Friends, we must strategize. How shall we mount an assault upon Knighthood?”

“Kortallen?” Butler said.

The dragon looked up sharply as if stung, but his eyes were significantly less hostile than they had been before. Artemis noted as such. He’d made several subtle observations about Kortallen’s mannerisms toward his bodyguard, and vice versa. The two appeared to be taking strides toward becoming more comfortable with each other.

Kortallen shifted in place, canting his legs further.

“Well, there’s one thing I’ve learned - Knighthood tower is impenetrable by radio waves and energy outputs of all kinds. They don’t even use radios for security. Other than comms, the whole thing works by word-of-mouth.” He snorted. “Traditionalists.”

“Security cameras?” Butler questioned.

“None, except for outside the compound, which makes them clinically useless to the inside.”

“If they’ve made the compound energy-proof, then how do they get their p…?” Holly began, but she stopped when she realized:

Knighthood tower was, quite literally, powered by dragons.

“Oh,” she said.

“‘Oh’ is correct,” Kortallen replied with a scowl. “And whatever power they steal from us that they  _ don’t  _ use, they can sell off. They’ve stopped killing us, but only because they’ve figured out that we can become a source of profit. Do you have any idea how much energy one adult dragon can give off in a single day?”

Proverbial crickets filled the room with their song.

“Enough to power that entire skyscraper for  _ forty-eight hours _ ,” he said, nodding his head to the last two words. “Or so I’m told.”

“How do you know any of this?” Artemis asked, looking at him critically.

Kortallen clenched his teeth. His eyes seemed a bit too intent on studying the carpet.

“You’ve been there before, haven’t you?” Butler said, and it wasn’t a sentence that needed to be phrased as a question. “Knighthood had you, once.”

A moment of realization, like a sigh, came over the room.

“Once,” Kortallen growled. “Yes. I was there. But that was before they got clever. Used to be, they’d drag you kicking and screaming the whole way there. I was the first one they tried without sedatives or the proper energy equipment, and the last. I burnt down half the facility and flipped it off on my way out, but not before they had a week to do...a lot of sick things. Things I can’t even describe. But that was back in the seventies - they’ve had plenty of time to refine the practice, and over half of our numbers, post-Norway, are being contained in facilities around the world.”

“I am sorry for what you’ve suffered, Kortallen,” Root said consolingly. “But we cannot accept that your information on their security is valid after so many decades.”

Kortallen narrowed his glowing eyes.

“Yeah, actually, you can. What I know is nothing you can’t find with a simple Google search. Knighthood posts literally everything about itself online, even subtle mentions about dragons. And they’ve gained a massive following. The ideals they preach are obsessive over things like ‘purity’ and ‘traditional values.’”

Artemis nodded and put his hands behind his back. “What Kortallen says is true. This organization operates on very explicit terms with the public, and despite what horrors they deem to be just, in terms of gender and marriage and religion and race, the public is idly concerned.”

“So they’re terrorists, and nobody cares…” Foaly mumbled while he scrolled through his files. “What else is new?”

“Your commentary isn’t helping, and we’re getting nowhere,” Root growled.

“Yes,” Artemis said, shaking off the distraction, “Let us resume by compiling categories. What are our strengths versus theirs, and what are our weaknesses? What can we use against them?”

And so they formulated a list. Knighthood had knowledge of dragons and many of their secrets; energy-proof tech, which was only effective if entirely sealed; a whole host of hostages; proof of the People’s existence, though they weren’t likely to use it as leverage; armed goblins, most likely; and of course, the advantage of being on home turf.

They, on the other hand had two dragons; Butler, who was the equivalent of at least five knights; Vinyaya’s support on the Council; all of the technology Foaly had ever invented, though some of it was doubtless already being studied and reverse-engineered by Knighthood; knowledge of their brutality and torture, which could potentially be used as blackmail; invisibility and magic; knowledge of the tower’s location and schematics; and the advantage of surprise. But one of those categories seemed far more substantial than the other. 

“I don’t know, Arty, this seems pretty out-of-balance,” Holly pointed out.

“You underestimate the power of dragons,” Root said. “I’ve witnessed them firsthand. A single  **_oberon_ ** can kill over a hundred knights in two minutes. And knight armor, for what it’s worth, can’t guard against dragon fire. Not completely. Not even specialized LEP armor can do that. And there’s no point in having energy-proof armor if you’re getting your ribs crushed or you’re thrown out of a skyscraper. It’s safe to say only the gods have your back then. But, knowing them, they probably don’t.”

“Plus, I know knight strategy,” Kortallen put in. “Once it’s established that the building is compromised, they’re not going to throw themselves at us one by one. They’re going to gather up in one place, preferably to guard against us getting to their hostages, and launch one big assault. I’m fairly sure tanks will be involved. Lances, too.”

“Just how big is this tower?” Butler asked, raising a disbelieving brow.

“Well, it isn’t just a tower. It’s also a compound that goes as far down into the earth as it does up. And what’s below spreads out for multiple miles. The tower is just a happy, progressive-looking facade for the humans who want to be fooled.”

Foaly compliantly pulled up a blueprint of the whole complex onto the big screen. “There’s multiple points of egress. You guys will most likely want to go in through the hangar on the north side.”

“Can you get an estimate on the number of guards?” Butler inquired.

“Sure I can, big man, they posted that online too. The grand total is over a thousand knights, all employed with benefits. No clue how they manage those paychecks.”

“Private donors, politicians, and wealthy corporations, most likely,” Artemis said, “and an abundance of old wealth. Like the Fowl family, Knighthood has centuries-old investments and artifacts to draw from, and all of the venerable names are there. Pendragon being on the top of the list.”

Butler scoffed. “Seriously? Arthur Pendragon was real?”

“ _ Arturus  _ Pendragon, actually,” Artemis corrected smoothly, “but yes.”

Kortallen grinned. “I ran into him, once. He was an ass.”

“If this ‘Charla Maine’ character is in charge, wouldn’t that mean that she’s related to one of the greats? Bloodlines, and all that?” Holly input.

“Considering that her name is a giant play on words, Holly, I’m gonna go with a solid yes,” Foaly snickered.

“Do we still not know anything about her?”

Artemis shook his head. “Unfortunately not. It seems that she is the grandest mystery about the entire organization. For all we know, she could be entirely made up. One picture is hardly solid proof. I suspect that Agent Lancer threw her name out as bait, to give us something to focus our attention on.”

“And...is it working?” Holly asked.

Artemis flashed her a close-lipped smile that would have been chilling, had she not gotten used to seeing it.

“For Knighthood,” he purred, “unfortunately not.”

 

During this conversation, Drew was none the wiser, dancing in his room to songs by the electronica band Owl City. He’d given up doing it outside, knowing that at any time he might be watched by a curious shielded fairy, and he had not yet developed the sensitivity in his wings to detect the shield, so he just retreated indoors. Shielded or no, dancing in front of others made him self-conscious.

The songs weren’t really matching his mood. More of a non-mood, really. He recognized it as the dying throes of his depression, which was still vainly fighting to tear him down from his high palace of bliss. He hadn’t felt it since coming to live in Ireland. Now it wasn’t strong enough to pull him into a full episode. It just left him feeling a bit empty. Grey.

Drew knew why, too - lately he’d been coming to terms with the fact that he might never see a single one of his friends again.

Most of his school friends, he could survive losing. The memory of them would hurt, sure, but he would be able to move on. But there was one friend…

Merianth. Merry.

He’d met them online. One anonymous message from him, gushing about their artwork, and that was that. They spent the next six months trading artwork and writing and music, sharing stories about their lives, video chatting, obsessing over books and shows, and becoming absolutely lost in each other’s company. His best friend on the planet. His Merry.

Maybe when this is over with, he thought, I can ask Dad. Maybe when Knighthood is gone I can go find Merry. That is...if they don’t hate me for leaving. Or think I’m dead.

The playlist ended, and his inactivity caused his mp3 to shut down. He had no will to turn it back on.

Thinking about Merry did that to him.

He’d been so wrapped up with the happenings of his new life and family that he’d barely had time to grieve the few good things he’d lost. And of all of the people he’d left behind, Merry was the only one that kept him up at night.

Drew sighed, heart heavy, and fell back onto his bed to listen to his heart rate climb down.

“ _ I wish you could see all of this, Merry… _ ” he whispered the miles-away ghost of his friend.

Suddenly he was struck with a feeling.

The homing sense.

He sat up and ripped the buds out of his ears so fast that their squishy ends popped off and tumbled around on the floor. The sudden awareness of a near being washed over him like warm water. It was another dragon, of course. But they felt so familiar.

Drew abandoned caution once more, letting his draconic sixth sense guide him outside and down to the gardens. Barefoot in nothing but shorts, two binders, and a black shirt. With an eyebrow perpetually raised, he prowled back and forth down the rows of the maze. Nothing.

Nothing in the roses, the ivy.

Nothing in the pond.

“ _ What the hell is going on…? _ ” he muttered, bewildered.

Drew rounded the next corner, and found himself walking directly into a trap. Literally.

There was the sound of a snap. Before he could react, there was a net latched around his whole body. Metal wire and plastic mesh tightened around his middle, pinning his arms and legs together. He collapsed to the ground as a charge went through him.

Drew screamed. Somehow this contraption was simultaneously forcing energy into him and stopping him from exerting it. It had his powers suppressed. He couldn’t transform. 

“ _ DAD!!! HOLLY!!! COMMANDER!!! ARTEMIS!!!  _ **_MAHDIR!!!_ ** ”

The draconic teen thrashed, straining so hard to produce flame that he almost threw up. Two figures rushed him, not quite as big as Butler but strong enough, and held him down on the pristine grass. One of them wrapped an arm around his chest, while the other limb was busy clapping a cloth over his nose and mouth. Knights.

Drew didn’t even have to breathe to know he was being drugged. He squirmed in place, holding a massive breath until his chest burned. He wrenched his head around, trying to get the chloroform-soaked cloth away from his face. But it was no use. In the end, he succumbed to the knight’s grasp and his lungs, sucking in a massive breath of chemicals.

The sickly sweet gas tasted like defeat and fear. As his body relaxed, betraying his will, the knight slowly loosed his grip.

“That’s it, dragon,” he said, voice sending a chill down Drew’s spine, “just sleep.”

Drew saw the world around him blur and darken into a muddy scape of color. With each breath, the strength bled out of him. The knight kept reassuring him, even as he lost the ability to move. His eyelids felt heavy. He was wide awake, but the chloroform pulled a blanket over his consciousness just the same.

When the knights thought he was under, and all he could see was a greyed-out sliver, they pulled him along a stretch of ground and carried him into a dark room. No, not a room.

A helicopter.

They laid him down on a stretcher and cuffed him to the rails. He heard one of them say:

“Hurry up with that sedative. Chloroform doesn’t put ‘em all the way out, not for long.”

As Drew lay paralyzed, he felt the presence of the other dragon directly beside him. But he couldn’t look over. This was why he hadn’t been able to find them before. But how had the knights hidden the helicopter in plain sight? 

Then a syringe pricked his neck, and he knew no more.

 

Kortallen felt the fear and distress in Drew’s homing aura. He roared his name, peeling out of the study and tearing down the hall. He cleared the railing, rolled the landing, raced to the door. Kortallen roared again as he kicked the entryway open, and transformed on his way out.

Butler was two steps behind him the whole way, followed on the wing by Holly. The LEP officers stationed on the opposite side of the grounds were stirred from their duties, rushing fully-armed onto the scene.

The helicopter in the gardens was then revealed to them. It was already in the process of taking off. But it wasn’t going to leave.

Kortallen thundered down to it and leapt, his claws tearing into the metal exterior. 

Snarling and screaming a rich cacophony of sounds into the cockpit, he thrashed his tail and beat his wings and bashed his headblade into the rotor. The machine went down, and he went to work ripping it apart.

But there was no teenager inside it.

Kortallen roared again in a rage, wrenching the pilot out of his seat. He tossed the man across the lawn like a feather.

“ **_WHERE IS HE?!_ ** ” the  **_oberon_ ** ’s reptilian mouth demanded, barely coherent.

The knight found his footing, rising into a fighting stance. But when his brain translated the rough pronunciations of dragon-spoken English, he merely laughed and shot himself dead.

Kortallen turned right around and burned the man’s body to ash, then proceeded to do the same to the helicopter’s remains. The fuel ignited and engulfed the wreck in a storm of flame, within which hues of green and orange battled for dominance. Dragon fire was not a passive fire.

While the others watched Kortallen’s tirade, another helicopter was prepared to ascend from the adjacent corner of the grounds. They saw its unveiling, but knew it was too late.

“It was a decoy,” Holly panted.

Butler swore, shoving in an earpiece.

“Foaly? Damn it, Foaly, do you copy?!”

The centaur’s whinny shrilled in his ear, but no sarcasm followed. “I’m here. What do I do?”

“Do you have your electromagnetic what’s-it-called finished?! The TEWs?!”

“Yes!” Foaly cried, “Yes, yes, I do, but what in the hell is going o-”

“ _ Turn it on! _ ” Butler roared, “ _ Turn it on, right now! _ ”

Foaly was so stricken that he actually leapt in place. “Butler, if I turn it on before the helicopter leaves, Drew will be fried!”

The helicopter rose higher in the air. Drew could be seen from outside it, along with the grey and pink dragon laying next to him and the lone pilot. Mere seconds to go before it was out of range.

“ _ He’ll suffer worse if Knighthood takes him! Just do it, Foaly! _ ”

The centaur always hated this part of his job, even more so than the lack of appreciation. Being the one who “pushes the button” makes one responsible for what comes after. It never matters who ordered the button pushed, because, in the end, the one who does the pushing made the decision to follow the order. And as it was in this instance, Foaly hated himself for pushing the button.

He stared up into the plasma screen with determination and no small amount of regret.

His finger came down on the cursed “button,” which more accurately was a series of key presses, and a crackling wave of green light materialized in the shape of a sphere around the entire grounds. Bugs that came in contact with the force-field were fried. Worms were roasted in the dirt. Unsuspecting birds and rabbits either fell to the ground smoking or hopped in place as their hearts stopped. But it was too late.

The helicopter ascended out of the electromagnetic field’s scope with two seconds to spare.

Kortallen turned away from his rampage in time to watch it go. The  **_oberon_ ** roared, ballooning his wings, and took to the air in one fluid rush.

“Kortallen, don’t!” Holly bellowed.

The others screamed for him, which he heard, but he didn’t care. Unfortunately for him, he had not been present for the conversation about the TEW invention, and thus had no idea what the green film in the air was. But when he hit it…. 

Oh, boy.

The dragon de-transformed in less than a millisecond. His eyes went wide and then shut immediately after. He thrashed his wings and his head, all the while screaming so loud he temporarily lost the ability to hear. Agony latched itself around his form and cackled as his muscles spasmed. Limbs contorted without direction or purpose, other than to make the pain stop. It was a cruel irony - dragon screams sounded like the songs of whales.

Foaly responded by deactivating the force-field. Kortallen dropped like a stone.

Butler and the fairies ran down to him. He writhed on the ground at the bottom of the hill, clutching his head with clawed hands and still screaming. There was no charge going through him any more, but still...

The giant manservant held his fellow parent in place with a single hand, so he wouldn’t hurt himself.

“What’s wrong with him, Commander?” he demanded.

“It’s his headblade,” Root said hurriedly, kneeling down, “the headblade is like a giant nerve, and we just poked it with the biggest, baddest stick on the planet. The force-field sent his navigation system out of whack and now he’s going into sensory overload.”

Artemis moved forward to observe, but Root ordered him to keep out of the way.

“Keep back, Fowl, this could get messy. Short, help me with this.”

The elf placed his hands on either side of Kortallen’s headblade, whispering in  **_drakzha_ ** , and willed his magic to soothe the nerve. Holly knelt and joined him.

Kortallen gasped and then lay mostly still. Parts of his body still spasmed, but he was reduced to sobbing in pain and clawing at the ground, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. He felt Butler put a hand behind his head for support, shadow falling over the dragon’s body like a blanket. It scared him, but at least the light wasn’t so harsh on his eyes anymore.

Butler decided to take a chance - he said something in  **_drakzha_ ** that he often heard Drew mutter to himself when he was stressed or upset.

“ **_Tasuron ryenta. Tasuron_ ** ,” he rumbled softly.  _ You are safe, be calm. You are safe. _

He did not know what this meant, but the fairies did, and Kortallen most certainly did, which was the main thing. The  **_oberon_ ** was calmed by the words, and a part of him wanted to request that Butler say them again. 

He realized in that pain-soured moment that he liked the sound of the human’s deep, gravelly voice. 

Then he fainted.

“What do we do, Commander?” Captain Boulder asked. “Do we follow the helicopter?”

“That’s a negative, Boulder,” Root growled, rising to a stand, “A big damn negative. You’ll get yourselves killed. We wait until Kortallen is recovered to make a counter-strike. And then, when we do, you’re not coming with me. Your unit is staying at the Manor with Foaly.”

Butler lifted Kortallen from the ground as Root continued issuing orders, carrying him like a baby. A seven-and-a-half foot tall, three hundred-pound baby, mind you. The dragon’s head lolled back over Butler’s arm, eyes glowing dimly from beneath their lids. He made a sound like a purring leopard.

“Drew will be alright, Butler,” Holly said as she walked beside him. “We will get him back.”

But the manservant was not listening. He’d already made it up in his mind how he was going to kill Charla Maine.


	12. The Dragon's Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOHHHHH BOIIII it is about to go DOWN!!! The crew plots their rescue mission, while Drew experiences what it’s like to be stuck in Knighthood. (Hint: Knights are transphobic AF.) Root drags out the ol’ uniform (and looks dang fine in it), and Holly is reminded once more that her boss is a badass. I feel like I’ve made Butler kind of stupid, compared to how he is in the books… He just doesn’t seem so powerful or intimidating. And I’m not so good at the tactical writing and strategy as Colfer is. Oh well. The crew goes in to get Drew, and they find somebody from Julius’s past. Artemis gets put to work doing something he can actually manage without getting hurt. 
> 
> Soundtrack 12: “Come Crashing” by Digital Daggers

They wasted no time in planning the rescue mission-slash-assault. Kortallen wanted to go blazing in, which he made very clear when he stumbled into the study, half-lucid and nauseous. His strength was already nearly returned. That much was obvious from the way he paced about, practically smoking at the mouth, swearing and seething in both English and  **_drakzha_ ** .

“You are at a disadvantage,” Artemis pointed out, “and Knighthood has the advantage of multiple hostages, most of whom they really can do without. We must go about this strategically, thought I’m sure the knights would have appreciated the honor of bold-faced combat.”

Artemis wanted to go too, but Butler was adamant against it.

“Butler, I must be there to oversee the operation and give instructions.”

“Then you can do it from here. Let the LEP watch you while I am at the tower.”

Artemis shook his head. “No, Butler I cannot. Once you enter Knighthood tower, you will be cut off from all outside contact. The building is sealed off, you remember. This will be a similar venture to when we infiltrated the Spiro Needle to retrieve the C-Cube. Similar, but not identical. This time, we have the advantage of blueprints and foreknowledge, and I am not trapped in a room.”

Butler sighed, reluctant, but he agreed on the terms that Artemis could only go if he remained in a sealed-off room with comms, somewhere his intellect could safely do some good. 

“We can’t take the Lear jet or anything public,” he decided. “Knighthood will be looking for that. We’ll have to go by shuttle.”

“Not all of us are going to fit in the stealth shuttle, Butler,” Holly reminded him. “Four fairies, tops, and Artemis and I will take up three of those spots. What do you plan to do, ride on top?”

Several of them cast meaningful looks at Kortallen.

The  **_oberon_ ** glowered. “That whole riding thing is really demeaning, you know…”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t fight with Tyburn Hyacinth on your back at Norway,” Root scoffed.

“That was different,” he said. “He was a Dragonologist. And I appreciate the fact that  _ you _ are, but I don’t know how I feel about having a full-size human along for the ride. Either way, you’re going to have to come along to shield me.”

Holly cleared her throat.

“Random topic, I know, but if you’re resistant to magic, how will a shield work?”

“Dragons are resistant to offensive magic, not defensive. So as you might have noticed after I had my brains electrocuted, healing magic is considered defensive. Shields are the same - they can’t hurt, but they do give us a massive headache because they mess with our headblades. Anyway, the fact still stands. I’m not letting the human ride me.”

_ The human? _ Butler thought,  _ I could have sworn we were past that. _

“This is no longer a matter of pride,” Butler said aloud. “This is for Drew’s sake. Each moment we spend bickering about who’s riding with who is another moment Drew spends in mortal danger. Do you really want to argue about this?”

Kortallen sent him a withering glance, but it wasn’t heartfelt.

Artemis nodded. “So, it is settled. Let us review the details again…”

 

They assembled on the lawn at dusk. The moon was naught but a blank space in the sky, which was a brilliant plane of colorful nebulae. Commander Root emerged from the LEP base wearing a sleek ensemble of reinforced plates, straps, and synthetic leather, all black and silver: the armor he’d worn as a Dragonologist during the dragon wars. He’d dragged it up from Haven for the occasion. Cigar in one hand and ridged helmet under the other arm, he marched out onto the grass with an air of pride and nostalgia.

They watched him approach, casting glances that ranged from approval to intrigue.

“Damn, sir,” Holly remarked with a grin.

“Not one word about it, Short,” Root said, straight-faced. “You never saw me wearing this. Nobody underground is supposed to know the Dragonologists fought battles.”

“Yessir, I never saw you wearing that,” her mouth said.  _ Trouble is going to lose his mind when I tell him about this _ , she thought at the same time.

Root addressed them all collectively.

“Remember, people, we’re going entirely against Council orders. But, in the case that we’re all captured, at least this way we have no affiliation with the rest of the People. Try to keep that in mind when we’re facing down an army of racist, prejudiced knights.”

Foaly clopped out after him, holding something that closely resembled a Windex spray bottle.

“This is a non-toxic chemical laced with microorganisms,” he explained as he sprayed Holly from top to bottom, “which will make you invisible to energy-tracing machines and radar, which Knighthood no doubt has to keep track of dragons while they’re being transported throughout the tower. I’ve had this little nugget of engineering on the back burner for quite some time. Do tell me how it goes.”

“You mean this has never been tested in the field?” Root protested as Foaly sprayed him on the back of his neck.

“Nope. Nor has it been Council-approved, but since we’re throwing their rules out of the proverbial window this time, I thought you wouldn’t mind it too much.”

Foaly was right. He really didn’t mind.

Then the centaur sprayed down Kortallen, tail flicking nervously the entire time and apologizing over and over again. The  **_oberon_ ** was in full dragonoid form, being fitted with one of the old Dragonologist saddles. It fit snugly over the space between his wings, but it wasn’t nearly big enough for both Butler  _ and  _ Root. It was going to be an awkward flight, with Root in front, and Butler behind, hanging on by the saddle straps and his legs and nothing else, but that was the least of their worries.

“ **_There’s no such thing as a ‘Dragon Rider,’_ ** ” Kortallen was explaining to Captain Boulder, “ **_That would imply that riding dragons is the defining aspect of their job, which it isn’t. Anyone who claims it is is both a liar and a gutsy idiot who thinks a bit too highly of themself._ ** _ ”  _

Then it was time. Artemis clambered into Holly’s shuttle and disappeared, but not before Butler stopped him and said:

“Listen. I want you to understand that this plan could directly endanger my son’s life, not just yours anymore. Drew is not you or I. I doubt we’re going to manage a third resurrection any time this century, so...please be careful, Artemis. Be careful with our lives.”

“I will,” the Irish boy replied, confident. “And Butler…”

“Yes?”

Artemis looked his bodyguard dead in the eyes. “If, after this, we survive, I will no longer hold you to your duties as my bodyguard, if you do not wish to be. If you would prefer to spend your remaining days with your son, I will not be offended.”

Butler smiled, clapping a hand on his charge’s shoulder.

“Artemis, there’s no reason I can’t do both.”

And that was good enough for both of them.

Holly’s shuttle departed. Root strapped himself into the saddle, discarding his cigar into one of his officers’ waiting hands. Butler strode over, pausing to share a moment of meaningful eye contact with the dragonoid Kortallen. Resentment passed between them, lighter now than ever before, and also respect. And something else.

Then Butler mounted, and Kortallen rocked beneath his weight. He didn’t feel nearly as heavy as anticipated, though. As the dragon turned away, Butler called out with a wave.

“Foaly!”

The centaur looked up, expecting to be reprimanded for something, or be requested to design something or other. But what he heard instead was something he would treasure for centuries.

“I just want to tell you - you’re a brilliant inventor, and one of the most valuable allies I’ve ever had. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us over the years.”

And then they were gone.

Foaly felt as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He stared after them, dumbfounded, and as soon as they were out of sight, he galloped into the pod base and established a connection with Haven so that he could screech to his wife about the whole thing. It would be a defining conversation topic for him for the next several months.

The drugs wore off Drew’s body and mind like one rubs a layer of varnish off wood trim - slowly, and not without a considerable amount of determination. He forced himself to awaken, forced his eyes to go wide and stay that way. The drowsiness made his head spin, but he refused to go under again. He’d never been drugged before, other than that time when he’d had his wisdom teeth taken out. His thoughts were a blur.

Through the haze, he finally remembered something Butler had told him:

“ _ If you ever find yourself in a situation where you’re being drugged asleep, focus on your senses. They’ll be dulled, and that’s the whole point, but push through it. Look at the room. Where are you? What’s the temperature like? _ ”

Drew did so. His eyes told him that he was in a grey chamber, secured to a pod by a webbing of straps and wires and tubes. Temperature wise, the room was slightly cold. Dry air, he noted. Antiseptic smell. It wasn’t a complete silence - a buzzing whine was hovering on the edge of his range of hearing, probably too high for humans to hear. It irritated him. Two sucker-like contraptions were glued to his forehead. His scalp burned, and his scales itched like he was being watched.

No doubt about it.

He was in Knighthood’s clutches now.

Drew heard a stifled sniff across the way, just off to his left and slightly behind. Suddenly his homing instinct kicked in at full force. There was another dragon back there.

“...h-Hello?” he tried, voice unsteady.

“Oh, thank god,” a young, androgynous voice replied, “I thought you were never going to wake up.” Drew couldn’t think of a thing to say in reply, so the voice continued, “I’m so sorry...they used me to lure you in with the homing instinct, didn’t they?” Their voice is so familiar, Drew thought.

“Yeah. I think they did. But it’s not your fault - it’s not anyone’s fault but Knighthood’s.”

“True that.”

“How long have you been here?” Drew inquired.

“About a month,” the other dragon whimpered. “God...I haven’t seen my brother….or my parents...my cats... _ or _ my friends…”

Drew’s face fell. “Me, either.”

“There was this guy I met online...we’d been talking for about six months.” The other dragon inhaled heavily and then exhaled, onset with grief. “We traded art back and forth. He must think I’m dead now.”

“I met someone online too,” Drew admitted sadly. “They were my best friend.”

“So was he.”

They both sighed in unison, mourning.

Drew decided to explain, “I’ve been missing for about month and a half now. My house got attacked by these goblin creatures. I was rescued by a guy who turned out to be my real dad. Ever since then, I’ve been living with him and his friends. In Ireland. That’s where Knighthood got me.”

The other dragon said nothing.

Drew’s eyes travelled to the ceiling. Suddenly understanding the reality of his situation, he shuddered. “ _ What are they going to do to us? _ ” he whispered.

“The same thing they’ve been doing to me for about a month….” they replied, “You’re a battery. They’re going to suck you dry, slow, for as long as your life force holds up. Once a week, there’s a period of time where they open up the windows up there and let the sunlight in, so we can recharge. Then they do it all over again.”

Drew’s facial features formed a fearful grimace. He understood. 

“...Is it going to hurt?”

He heard a light scratching noise - the other dragon nodded their head. “Yeah.... It hurts like hellfire, but you can’t move. As soon as they turn the machines on, the life force just drains out of you. You’re paralyzed. All you can do is blink and scream inside your head,” they said, voice breaking.

Drew inhaled, chest fluttering with the threat of tears. 

How was he going to get out? He had barely enough leeway to inch his fingers along the inside of the open pod, as it was. Simple answer - maybe he  _ wasn’t _ going to get out.

“Since it looks like this may be the last time we ever talk to anyone…” the other dragon decided, “We might as well introduce ourselves.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll go first,” they said. “My name’s….Merianth.”

And instantly Drew froze. His chest expanded outward, heart leaping in place. “Merry?!” he cried, head swiveling to try to catch a glimpse of the other dragon.

“Y-yeah, that’s what my friends call me, but...how do you know that?”

“It’s me! Drew! Druvidian!”

Merry gasped. “Drew?! You’re a dragon too?!”

“Yeah, man!” he laughed. His skull thudded heavy against the back of the headrest. Then the horror of the situation hit him. “Oh my god….they’ve….they’ve got you too. This is…. Merry, oh god… The first time we meet IRL, and it had to be like this. We can’t even look at each other…. And now we’re both going to die in this  **_vastayazh nier go ritayne zvardikyer!_ ** ”

He shouted the last part, voice breaking apart into tear-stained lumps that burned his throat as he said each one.

“Your voice sounds deeper than it did on Skype,” Merry said, trying to lighten the mood, “manly-man. Sunshine lad.”

Drew laughed in spite of wanting to retch. They both did, until they cried full-on. He hoped their tears would soak into the pod and short out some critical component of the machine. It was a futile hope, and he knew it, but, then again, everything was futile now.

“If we get out of here, I’m going to baby-carry you to my house,” Drew grinned, “and then we’re going to read the Orion Raven books together. All of them. I’m going to show you all of my artwork, and I’ll introduce you to my friends. I met  _ fairies _ , Merry. Legit fairies.” Then he lost composure again. “God,” he moaned, “I love you, Merry.”

“I love you too, Drew,” they whimpered back.

“At least we get to spend the rest of our lives in the same room together.”

“Yeah…”

Then quiet enveloped the space between them. It seemed the pair of teenage dragons could communicate without words. And so they did communicate, for the better part of the hour, until the almost-silence was broken by the entrance of a knight in a lab coat with the red Knighthood cross emblazoned on the lapel.

Drew and Merry both jumped at the abruptness of the opened door. Drew had a direct line of sight to the knight (a short, broad-shouldered man with dark hair), but Merry could not see. Their auras traded with each other the electric sensation of fear.

The knight approached with a digital clipboard in-hand, and looked over the machines to Drew’s left that monitored his vital signs in little green lines.

“How are we doing today, miss?” the knight asked nonchalantly, as if he were a child’s doctor.

Drew grit his teeth and set the knight with a fierce glare.

“I am not a girl,” he growled.

The knight looked down at him and smiled. It was a cynical smile, one that an adult offers a child with delusions or wild accusations. Condescending.

“Yes, you are,” the knight said, and then he resumed taking notes.

Drew had more than half a mind to burn the man right there and then, but the machine was already leeching some energy from him, insulating, so he couldn’t transform or breathe flame. He settled for baring his teeth and trying to bore a hole in the knight’s skull with his glare. He caught a glimpse of his name tag, which read:  _ Agent Ryan Ector _ .

“Now, I’m sure the other one has told you, but this is going to hurt. Quite a bit,” he admitted, again too nonchalant for a man who was about to torture a teenager. “I’d tell you to try not to scream, but you won’t be able to. Just sit back and relax, and I’m going to watch for a while. In a week I’ll come back and let you catch some sun, okay?”

Drew felt himself begin to cry.

This was one of his greatest fears - having someone do something entirely despicable to him, something truly inhumane, and all the while be completely apathetic. As if their torture was a normal procedure, like a shot at the doctor’s office. His parents, the Rileys, had done it to him, under the pretext that it was for his own good.

A mechanical whirring noise rose up from the stagnant quiet.

It rose and rose, pitch increasing with each second, as the machines powered up. Drew felt nothing yet, but the anticipation was driving him up the wall. Merry felt his horror with the homing sense. Their croaking voice reached out to him across the room.

“ **_Ya amoraa, Druvidian._ ** ” _ I love you, Drew. _

The first tears trickled down his face, but he didn’t get the chance to reply.

His whole body seized as the machines gave a powerful clap and activated. His chest rose off the pod, straining, stomach clenched until it hurt. A thin moan escaped his lips.

This was so much worse than he could have anticipated.

The very life was being sucked out of him like blood through a straw. With every heartbeat came an immense  _ pressure  _ that swelled in his veins and his fingers, pounded at his skull, burned in his eyes. All of his muscles tensed at once, as they do when one is being tased. But in this case, Drew was the source of the power, and it was  _ agony _ . His mouth opened to scream, but he could no longer suck in a proper breath. His body eased back onto the pod, and then he couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. He lay immobile, lacking the energy to even blink. He couldn’t hear anything. Just laid there, frozen with an expression of horror and pain.

The lights in the tower surged a little brighter.

And Charla Maine smiled in her penthouse office.

 

The thing about riding a dragon is that it’s not an exact science. If you don’t have a good grip, you’re guaranteed to fall off, and if you don’t have specialized goggles, your eyes get all dried out from the wind. And if you’re flying without a sealed, pressurized cabin, five-hundred miles per hour tends to pull at your skin and freeze you to the core. Flying at night is sure to make it worse.

Butler had his legs hooked over Kortallen’s wing joints, hands gripping the stirrups for dear life. 

Commander Root, on the other hand, was having the  _ time _ of his life.

They soared over the Irish sea at an altitude of 3000 feet, then crossed over into England. Farms and towns and little flat roads whizzed past faster than the eye could process. Lights winked at them from below. The smell of the crisp vegetation and clear water forced its way down their lungs. And the whole of space was splayed out above them, inviting, wondrous.

They made the trip in half an hour.

When London winked into existence on the horizon, Kortallen lowered his altitude. Knighthood tower loomed ahead, a daunting monolith of human history that had gotten tangled with technological advances. The mood drastically darkened then. Butler’s glare alone could have lowered the temperature by ten degrees.

“T-minus six minutes, gentlemen,” Root said over the comms. “Be ready.”

Butler thought to reply, but without a helmet, his words would be lost to the wind.

Kortallen dove down between buildings, wings spanning the width of the avenues. It was awkward flying, being unable to see oneself. An acute sense of size and position was key. He managed it without a hitch, though his tail took out more than one street lamp.

“ **_Sorry,_ ** ” he muttered, but it came out as more of a grumble.

Two left turns and a right later, the grey slab of a landing strip was the only thing between them and the earth. Knighthood tower leered down at them from its gargantuan height, as if to dare them to approach. Kortallen banked to the right, coming up sharp in front of a looming hangar door. His wings beat just so the wind disturbance was minimal, near silent, and landed light as a feather, which was a curious thing to consider because he had none.

Butler felt himself tip back as they landed, mind absently toying with the acknowledgement of the powerful beast moving beneath him. Suddenly he was struck with the realization that this was the most contact he’d ever had with the  **_oberon_ ** , or was likely to have. Ever.

Focus, he told himself, this is no time to lose concentration over such a simple thing. Pull yourself together, man.

The miniature airport was like an abandoned hive. Butler counted no more than twenty, and they were too spread out to be effective. Scarce few knights trailed its borders, though units in white and red uniforms stood ready at each hangar, save this one. Almost as if they were expected…

No, it was a helicopter that was expected. Kortallen shifted to the side as the bird hovered over the landing pad, while knights swarmed in. The dragon craned his neck around to see inside, on the off chance that Drew would be there, but found only a few crates. He narrowed his invisible eyes and padded over to the hangar door, and was swallowed up by the interior darkness.

Butler and Root dismounted with little care. They took advantage of the chopping of helicopter blades to cover their movements. Kortallen assumed semi-humanoid form, assimilated the saddle away, and used his night vision to locate the nearest door, which would take them into the subterranean levels of the compound.

“Cable,” Root said.

Butler complied with the order, unwinding a length of cable from his belt. They fastened it at each other’s waists, so that Root could continue to shield them as they navigated the corridors.

“Short, are you in position?” he barked into the comms.

“Affirmative, Commander,” Holly said. “Artemis and I are heading in. I’ll have him secured and locked down in thirty seconds, tops. There’s a supply closet on the first floor. Reinforced. Talk to you again when we hijack the internal channels.”

Then the line went dead. Even the static. Butler knew they had entered the skyscraper. He sent a silent prayer that Artemis would be safe wherever Holly decided to stuff him.

“Let’s move,” Root decided.

And off they went, following close on the heels of two knights returning from their flight. The three matched pace perfectly. The knights swiped twin key cards into slots beside the door, and their identities flashed up on the security screen. Agents Leodegrance and Dagonet. As they entered they allowed the door to swing lazily shut, giving Butler, Root, and Kortallen plenty of time to slip through.

 

Holly and Artemis made their way in in much the same fashion. She parked the shuttle on a stretch of decorative grass and shadowed a distinguished-looking businessman through the front door. The security checks here were more thorough, and they only barely managed to skirt around the hulking knights here.

One guard felt a breeze sweep past his legs, but he assumed it was just the wind. Just the wind.

Holly took Artemis by the arm and guided him over to the closet behind the grand staircase. It was locked, but with her omnitool she picked it open in less than ten seconds. Without a word, Artemis submitted to being sat down in the corner, under a shelf, and behind a camfoil canvas that she draped over him. Then she flipped down a rolled-up net of tools and hardware, and piled up some buckets in front of that. As a finishing touch, she seared the door handle shut after she left.

“Right,” the elf said, assessing Artemis’s security one last time. “You’ve got thirty seconds, Arty. Patch me into your secret spy network.”

“It’s much more dignified than that, Holly,” Artemis said over the comms, having already booted up his laptop and established remote connection. “This is an entirely private channel. We’re operating on frequencies tha-”

“Save it, Mud Boy,” she told him, slipping back into using his old nickname, “let’s focus on rescuing Drew, okay?”

“Agreed.”

Holly looked around, recording everything, as per Commander Root’s instructions. Even though they were already very much in deep troll dung, or were going to be once they returned hopefully alive, he wanted it on record that regulations were still followed. For the most part.

“No cameras. Kortallen was right. What kind of human organization doesn’t have security cameras nowadays?” she observed.

“Like I said,” the  **_oberon_ ** replied in a low voice, now connected to their network as well, “they’re traditionalists. Idiots who believe that human power is the only thing they need. They spend so much time clinging to the old values that they think all of this new technology is some kind of affront to god.”

“That’s enough chatter,” Root said. “Short, get your minicams online.”

Holly nodded, even though nobody on earth could see. The upside to there being no security cameras was that they could not be spotted, but the downside was that they could not hack the systems in turn. So as Artemis had stated during the planning phase; since Knighthood refused to use any monitoring systems, they were going to make use of their own.

She went around the first floor, casually suckering cameras the size of aphids onto various places on the walls and ceiling. She repeated the process for each floor as she went up, casually checking around for Drew. And for Charla Maine.

“There’s no point, Holly, he’ll be secured somewhere deep,” Artemis said, noticing her tracker beam slow at certain areas.

She knew he was right.

“Alright, I’ve got the first five stories locked in,” Holly notified them all. “Heading down to you, Commander.”

 

Every hundred yards or so, and at every junction, Root would stick a minicam onto the wall. On Artemis’s laptop, it was like having an ant colony burrowed into the blueprints. Bit by bit, they were giving him visual access to every corner of the compound, the schematics of which he sent to both elves’ helmets. Sooner or later, they would either find Drew or run out of minicams. He’d estimated that they would need about a thousand for the entire operation. Foaly had supplied them with twice that many, just to be on the safe side.

Every once in a while, Artemis would offer up instructions such as, “Take the next right and pause for ten seconds,” or, “Four knights coming up from behind. Watch your backs.”

The ground floor of the compound was actually floor seventeen. Beneath that were sixteen levels of laboratories and armories and an unknown number of other things to sweep, all manually. They couldn’t risk using the ARCLights - if even one knight looked up at the wrong time, the alarm would be triggered and there would be no getting out. The guards were instructed to suspect every living thing, even insects. Paranoid human cameras.

They bumped into Holly, quite literally, in a massive lab space on the fifteenth floor.

“Commander,” she said, flustered from her collision with Butler, “there you are. I was getting worried. What’s the status?”

“The status, Short, is that I’m running low on magic from trying to shield these two for the past hour. Fowl, is this lab clear?”

“All clear, Commander, or so it seems,” Artemis replied, looking over the camera feed from the minicams they’d already placed there. “You have approximately eight minutes before the next patrol cycles through. Be careful.” As if it needed saying.

Root relaxed his magic, and the four of them all shimmered into the visible spectrum. The elf stretched, untying himself from the cable.

“That’s better. Now, what’s all of this?”

They assessed the lab for the first time. It looked like any other, all white with tables and cubicles and equipment, and big as a warehouse. Stacks of paper, some curiously written in Old English. Glass tubes ran from floor to ceiling, filled with either live wires or liquid or organic samples. All of the lights were dimmed, so that the entire area maintained a ghostly, otherworldly quality. Probably not on purpose, mind.

“Fan out,” Root ordered. “Search the room.”

Butler disconnected the cable, and quiet as a mouse he crept to the outer wall of the laboratory. Like a predator he stalked the perimeter, keeping eyes and ears alert for Drew or for knights. He paid particular attention to the glass tubes, some of which were large enough to contain an  **_oberon_ ** in full form. But all were empty of life forms.

“Six minutes left,” Artemis reminded them.

Butler heard a scuffling just around the corner. He put his back to the wall and drew his dart pistol, though he ached to use the Sig. He craned his neck. Shadows shifted in the corner of his eye.

“We’ve got company,” he whispered.

“Knights?” Holly asked.

“No. Too small.”

“Small?”

Butler didn’t answer. He inched closer, raised the pistol, rounded the corner…

And was met with a high-pitched, girlish shriek.


	13. The Short-Fowl Dragonologist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ready for another new character? Originally she was going to be a dude, but I figured I have way too few women among my characters already. And her backstory/personality is an interesting one. The crew is really going to screw things up for Knighthood, but that’s what you get when you cross the Butler fam, isn’t it? Charla Maine is gonna get what’s coming to her. And Drew goes on a bit of a rampage because….reasons. Also I have a habit of writing villains who oversee everything that takes place. I should really find another tactic. It took me FOREVER to plow my way through this and the next chapter. Had to break out the ol’ battering ram (*wink wink* Mary knows what I’m talking about). Also, if you'll notice, I've been sneaking in some names from the Knights of the Round Table for the minor characters.
> 
> Soundtrack 13: “BlackJack” by Caitlin De Ville.

Butler’s eyes immediately went to the ground. There was a female sprite, a little younger-looking than Commander Root, with a bob of white hair and dark green eyes. Her pistachio skin was almost translucent next to the white outfit she wore, which looked more like a prison suit than lab attire. She looked up at Butler with absolute terror, cute face half-hidden by her locks, while golden wings fluttered behind her and blew dust particles.

Butler lowered the pistol to his side, realizing that the sprite was not here of her own free will. He knelt down slowly, hands slightly raised in the universal sign for  _ I’m not a threat _ .

“It’s alright, miss, I’m not a knight. And who might you be?”

The woman couldn’t reply. She backed away from him warily, arms raised in a defensive position. It was a combat pose Butler recognized from watching Holly and Trouble Kelp spar in the LEP training center. And, though terrified, the determination in her eyes betrayed her status as an experienced fighter. This was not a woman to be crossed.

Though it appeared she had indeed been crossed, and by Knighthood. There were bruises on her fingers and some on the side of her face that was concealed. She saw that he was staring. She knew exactly what he was staring at, and so she turned her head away, offering only an indignant scowl in return.

The others were there seconds later. Root barreled ahead of the rest, despite his legs being so short, and he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Alpine?!” he bellowed. “Is that you?!”

The sprite whirled her head around. “J-julius?”

Root helped her to her feet, and began furiously checking her over for bugs and other devices. Once satisfied, he wrapped her into a hug that popped several joints. His, not hers. And it was the first time that he almost cried in more than five centuries.

“What in gods’ name are you doing here, Frost?!” he shouted when they pulled apart, face taking on its trademark ruddy complexion. 

The woman, Alpine, shook her head. Tears fell to the ground.

“Who is this, Commander?” Holly asked.

“Dragonologist Alpine Frost,” the sprite introduced herself shakily, edging away from the giant human. “Julius, what’s going on? What are you doing here? And why are you working in full regalia with an LEP captain, a dragon, and this... _ human _ ?”

“This is Butler,” Holly said. “We’re here to find his and Kortallen’s son, Druvidian. He’s on the People’s side.”

“And Captain Short is one of my officers,” Root explained.

Alpine looked at him incredulously. “Wait...one of  _ your  _ officers?”

“I’m  _ Commander  _ Root now, of the LEP,” he said. “And there’s no need to look like that, Frost, I’m just as confused as you are. I thought you’d died in Barcelona, centuries ago!”

“I didn’t. After the battle, I sprained my wing, and they killed my partner, Vantalyssa. I couldn’t get back to the base. I tried to complete the Ritual, but some knights abducted me. I heard some of the goblins describe the tactic last week as the ‘Short-Fowl Maneuver.’”

“ _ Short-Fowl? _ ” Artemis snorted over the comms. “Well, that’s diminishing. Typically, in the realm of scientific achievement, the one who did the most work is honored first. It should be the  _ Fowl-Short _ maneuv-”

Holly rolled her eyes into the back of her head. Now was  _ so  _ not the time for his smart mouth. She cut him off.

“Arty, will you kindly do us all the immense favor of  _ shutting the hell up? _ ” 

“Who’s Arty?” Alpine demanded.

“Just our eyes and ears, not to worry,” Butler assured her. 

Alpine curled some hair behind her ear. She kept stepping in place, nervous, and wouldn’t take her eyes off of Root. It was obvious that she’d thought she would never see him again.

“Oh. Well, anyway, after they captured me, the knights forced me to enter multiple dwellings in a row without invitation, in order to destroy my magic. They knew about our laws. And after that they held me prisoner. Because I was a woman, they assumed I didn’t have any valuable information. So they just kept me locked up, until one day their new highlord, Charla Maine, came into power. She knew better than to underestimate me. And damn her for it, too, because I was days from figuring out how to escape.”

Kortallen got down to business. “Dragonologist, we’re short on time. Have you seen my son at all? Teenager, white scales, black horns, blue markings?” He kept his description short and sweet.

Alpine gave it some thought.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I think I have. He came in this morning, correct?”

“Correct,” Root nodded as he handed her an earpiece. “Will you help us find him?”

Alpine cast a shaded glance to Butler. “I don’t know if I can, Julius. There are knights everywhere, and if they see me even once, I’m dead. You have no idea what kind of things they’ve done to me as punishment. I’ve been trapped here for over four hundred years, made to work as a slave and an informant. They forced me to engineer their anti-energy tech, their armor, and their weapons. I told them everything, Julius. About the dragons. I managed to hold out on most of their secrets until now, but… I had to tell them. And I lost my magic centuries ago…”

She hung her head in shame.

“You have knowledge of everything in the compound, and that’s all we need,” Holly persuaded her. “If we can rescue some other dragons and start a revolution, Knighthood won’t stand a chance.”

Alpine passed Root a look of sheer trust. She took the earpiece.

“If I return to Haven, I’ll be ridiculed. The Council will probably lock me up for the rest of my life for what I’ve done.”

“It won’t come to that, Alpine, old friend,” Root said, eyes honest and clear, “believe me. Help us put an end to Knighthood, and everything they forced you to do will be forgiven. I’ll even put my career on the line to make sure of it. You were one of the best. The very best.”

If no one else, she trusted Root.

She screwed the earpiece in just in time to hear Artemis say:

“Time is up, everyone, the lab will be breached any second now. Take cover.”

There was no time to take cover. They were directly in the line of sight of the double door, through which came a patrol of four knights. Immediately they spotted the intruders, and three went down with darts in their necks before they could take another breath. But the one in back used his comrade as a shield, and in the time he had left before he went down as well, he managed to press the distress signal button on his armlet.

Two seconds later, an alarm sounded over the intercom. 

Every knight in the compound knew they were here.

“D’arvit...” Root growled, “that lasted all of twenty minutes. Time for plan B, ladies and gentlemen.”

Plan B was to sprint through the compound at full pelt, taking out any and all obstacles with maximum prejudice, and releasing any dragons along the way to incite chaos. There was no shielding involved. Just pure brute force and the element of surprise. Granted, some of the surprise was gone now that the knights were on high alert, but not many people can keep a straight face or a level composure with a giant man, a dragon, and three alien-looking creatures charging at them from the opposite end of a hallway.

And how they did charge.

Butler kept up with the dart gun, for now. He’d save real bullets for the larger conflict that was sure to come. He took men out at the knees, or grabbed them by the throat and knocked their heads against the wall. His subconscious noted that he saw no women while they drove through the ranks.

This is completely against my training, he thought, to rush blindly into an unsecured building like this.

Kortallen focused his efforts on burning the path behind, making sure that they wouldn’t be attacked from behind. The walls were coated with some kind of energy-absorbing insulation, which dulled his fire and made him twice as angry. Holly and Root aimed for the weakest spots in the knight’s armor, and fired off blast after blast from their Neutrinos.Alpine was the navigator, and Artemis warned them each time a new patrol was on its way.

“I thought you said they weren’t going to throw themselves at us one at a time?!” Holly shouted at Kortallen.

“They’ve got no choice now!” Kortallen replied. “We’re so far in that they can’t mobilize fast enough in front of whatever it is that they’re protecting, which means Drew must be close!”

“Here’s where we need to split up,” Alpine announced, out of breath, when they reached the next intersection. She pointed down the northward hall. “Go down there, take a right, then a left, and take the stairs down two levels. That’s where they keep new arrivals, until they assess their energy outputs.”

“And where will you go?” Root asked, sensing that she intended to take a different path.

“I’m going with whoever to release the  **_oberons_ ** . I know of two in particular who will provide ample distraction.”

The Commander nodded sharply. “Short, go with Dragonologist Frost. Fowl, I want you to keep your eyes on them while they go. Once that’s done, focus on trying to shut down key power outlets and circuits. Maybe the lights, while you’re at it. Butler and Kortallen and I will go after Drew.”

Butler dove down the hallway, shooting two knights in quick succession. They cried out and collapsed onto each other, snoring.

“Let’s go!” he bellowed.

“Don’t get killed,” Root called over his shoulder as he went.

Alpine smiled, sprinting in the opposite direction. “Never going to let it happen again!”

She and Holly made for the elevator. Surprisingly, it was still online. Holly regarded it skeptically, unsure if it was safe to use on high alert. Alpine went ahead and pressed the button for the next floor down.

“I’ll keep it moving, Holly, not to worry,” Artemis told her. “I’m rerouting the cancellation commands as we speak.”

“Thanks, Arty. But I’m not so worried about it not  _ moving  _ as I am it…not  _ stopping _ , if you catch my drift.”

“Ah. I’ll make sure of that as well. Don’t want any elf or sprite pancakes, do we?”

What is with the jokes today? Holly wondered. And then: of course. Artemis Fowl is in a good mood because Knighthood’s testing his scheming abilities. He must be having a ball up there.

They stepped into the elevator. As it descended, Holly tossed Alpine the taser and spare Neutrino from her toolbelt and looked her up and down. “I figure you know better than I do how to get within close range of knights,” she mentioned casually. 

“Mm. Does Julius still smoke?” Alpine inquired.

“All the time,” Holly replied fondly. “He’s cut back a little bit lately, though. I think he’s seeing someone.”

“Well, it’s about damn time…”

Holly smiled. “Sure is.”

She had a feeling that she and Dragonologist Frost were going to end up very good friends. She was even more sure of it when they emerged from the elevator and began shooting up the first lab in sight, and Alpine tased a man right between the legs.

 

Drew knew something was happening. Call it intuition, the homing sense, or perhaps the slight palpitation he sensed in the pulse of the machines that were sucking the life out of him. He was in pain now, feeling every single one of his cells scream in protest. It was like having a migraine, a heart attack, ruptured appendix, and a broken ribcage all at once, all while needing to throw up.

He’d lost count of the pulses. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been there. An hour?

A day?

A week?

His eyelids were slowly drawing closed, for even while paralyzed he lacked the energy to keep them open. Mouth half-open and drooling, fingers clawed, frozen in the last moment of bodily freedom he’d had, he felt his fear climaxing.

Figures burst into the room. Some of them were shooting.

Drew saw them in the corners of his exceptional peripheral vision, but couldn’t focus on a single one. A dark shadow appeared over him, giant, taking up the whole ceiling.

_...Dad? _

He tried to speak, but his muscles couldn’t comply. In fact, the effort it took to try to move them caused him so much pain that he almost passed out. In his mind, he screamed for about the thousandth time.

Kortallen felt his phantom agony with the homing sense. He tore across the room in a blaze of wings, crashing into the machine that was draining his child. Immediately the equipment powered down, and some of the residual energy in the system rushed back into Drew.

A tingle ran up and down his stomach, but still he was lethargic.

Butler pulled the wires and sensors away from his son and checked for a pulse. It was steady, but sluggish. Weak. He cradled Drew’s head in one massive hand, and held the other over his heart in the hopes that the heat energy from it would transfer and help him regenerate faster.

“ **_Tasuron,_ ** ” he whispered.  _ You are safe. _

Drew felt like crying.

“At this rate, he won’t regenerate on his own,” Root grunted, analyzing the graphs on the maimed machine. “And I’m betting those windows won’t open without some kind of access code, but I’m not going to risk distracting Artemis to get it.”

Kortallen joined Butler at his--no,  _ their _ \--son’s side. “What can we do?”

Root tapped his foot, mouth moving in a way that he might if he had a cigar on hand.

“We need an energy source. No, not fire - it can still harm him on the outside. We need a direct charge to hit him with, something that’s nonlethal but powerful….” His eyes traveled down to his Neutrino without him even thinking about it. “Oh.”

“What, you want to shoot him with that?” Kortallen demanded.

Yes, Drew thought, do it, please. I feel like I’m dying.

“I mean, unless you want to burn his face off or make him touch a live wire, this is the best solution. But, be my guest.”

Kortallen and Butler shared a glance. Drew silently rejoiced at seeing them so close and unified, for the first time. They had a conversation without words, and then it was decided.

“Do it,” they said at once.

Root sighed, heavily, and drew out the weapon once more. He decided to aim for the chest. It was a broader target, and he knew the blast would be spread out a little more - less painful.

“Sorry about this, kid. Don’t tear my head off, okay?”

Drew’s head lolled to the side, so he could see where the elf had his gun pointed. _ Oh, don’t you do it, _ he thought furiously,  _ don’t you dare shoot my binder, you fu _ -

Root shot him.

The shot sank into his sternum, energy racing out into his extremities with a vengeance. His binder was slightly singed, but that was the least of his worries. The greatest of his worries was the pain of it - the fact that this one blast from a fairy handgun hurt more than Knighthood’s machines. But it was over in five seconds, and then Drew’s mouth exploded with a jet of fire. His face contorted into the ferocity of a roar as he lurched up, still breathing flame.

He broke off the stream with a wrench of his head, which snapped around to snarl at Root. The elf raised his hands in surrender, genuinely believing for a split second that the teen might roast him alive.

“Thanks for that,” Drew said instead.

Root composed himself again in the next instant, holstering his weapon. “Don’t mention it, kid, let’s just get you out of here.”

Drew cracked his neck, groaning. His fathers helped him out of the pod to stand on shaky legs. The draconic teen willed his wings to sprout from his back, fusing with clothing all the way. His face contorted in discomfort for a second as the blood rushed into his extra appendages. Energy crackled in his cells.

“Steady, Drew. How do you feel?” Butler asked.

“I think I’m…” he began, but then his eyes met the sight of the pod next to his.

It was empty.

Merianth was gone.

“...Merry,” he breathed.

“You’re  _ what? _ ” Kortallen said incredulously, leaning down to watch the expression on Drew’s face shift from shock to a storm of equal parts rage and horror. 

The teen bared his teeth and stared unblinking into the space where his best friend was supposed to be. He balled his fists at his sides, puffing out his chest in a way that was a lot more intimidating than he thought it looked. In a single flourish, his legs became the clawed, digitigrade limbs of a dragon, and his tail whipped out like a knife.

For all of Drew’s passivity, he was very prone to protective instincts. He was infamous for it, through all years at school. And on the top of his “must protect” list were his friends. And, being a Butler, he had all of the hereditary power he needed to fulfill that instinct.

He sprang, racing around the cavernous room, screaming over and over again:

“ **_Merry! Merry!_ ** ”

Butler and Kortallen tried to head him off, barricading him with their arms and any other available limbs. Drew was faster, flapping up toward the roof.

“ **_MERRY!_ ** ”

“Drew! What the hell is wrong?” Kortallen demanded.

Drew landed like a teenager-shaped ton of bricks, practically spitting fire. The look in his eyes was manic, like a parent who’d lost track of their child.

“I just found out that my best friend in the whole world is _also_ a dragon, and _now_ they’re _gone!_ ” he barked.

“Drew, calm down,” Butler said smoothly. “Explain to us, who is ‘they?’”

Drew panted for a moment, looking at them all furiously, as if he expected them to already understand what was happening. He blinked, unable to form words as he flailed his arms to the beat of a silent string of sentences. Butler approached him one step at a time.

“Who is this friend of yours?”

“Their name is...Merianth,” Drew stammered. He was half-aware of his father’s hands on his shoulders, focused more on the fact that his Merry was gone. In a whirlwind of anxiety and creativity, his mind invented vivid pictures of what the knights might be doing to them at that very moment.

“That grey and pink dragon? The one that was in the helicopter with you?”

Drew nodded, lost.

“We’ll find them. I promise we will. But right now I need you to get somewhere safe. We can worry about this Merianth person later.”

“No!” Drew shouted, shoving Butler’s hands off. The volume of his own voice scared him. “No, I’m not just going to leave and hope things will be okay! Merry is still in here somewhere, and those knights are doing god knows what to them! I have to find them!”

Then he barreled past all three of them, crashing through the double doors without a single care, screaming Merianth’s name through the halls.

Here we go again, Butler thought as he followed after and reached for his Sig.

 

The thing about Knighthood’s security system was that it was  _ exactly  _ a bunch of paranoid human cameras, as previously suggested. Each and every knight was equipped with a body camera and a sensor that detected visual outputs, energy levels, heat signatures, and location. Of course, these were useless once taken outside the compound. But while still inside, they allowed Charla Maine to watch chaos unfold thousands of feet beneath her.

She glared hard into her computer screen. If she’d had a wine glass in her fingers at the time, it would have snapped. Luckily she had none, and was able to keep her composure.

Agent Lancer fed her live updates on which sectors were going dark, while she flicked through a growing list of incapacitated underlings. Her soldiers were being plowed through like dirt by this motley gang of people.

There were three of them. No, four. Then they ran into Dragonologist Frost, who was supposed to be in one of the labs on level eight, which made five. How in the hell had she managed to unlock her cell?

Charla jumped when the body camera of a guard was suddenly knocked out. Then another. She saw the little white and black and blue dragon who was responsible - that boy, Druvidian, that they’d been monitoring in Ireland. He was on a rage, spewing blue flame and crashing through the levels like a bulldozer. What was he after?

Charla poked his face on the screen, hiding her smile behind two manicured fingers.

Merianth.

That’s what he was screaming about. Merianth Shieldman, the little nonbinary dragon they’d snatched from America a month previously. How coincidental that they knew each other.

Charla went back to watching the elf and Dragonologist Frost progress through the energy chambers. They stopped for a moment. When their backs were turned, they almost got shot by a squadron that Lancer tipped off to their location. Shame it didn’t work. But Charla wasn’t really expecting her soldiers to be very competent in single-hand combat. They were just meant to slow things down until the main event. For now, she was content to sit back and analyze the intruders’ strategy. 

Wait...what was that?

She zoomed in on all six of them at once. Multiple of them were talking at the same time. And they were not all talking to each other… They had a contact hidden inside the building.

She sent an intercom message to all levels except those occupied by the intruders, instructing all of her knights to be on the lookout for a seventh. Now, she thought, let’s take a look at where you might be…

Charla tapped into the energy sensors on every knight’s suit, matching them one at a time with the knights themselves and labeled outputs that showed up on the Tower blueprints. There was one extra, but where? She intercepted the signal from Artemis’s laptop for the briefest moment, which allowed her to catch a glimpse of what he was getting at, but it also allowed him to use her signal in return. Immediately he shut down her laptop, forcing dozens of viruses down its proverbial throat and changing all of her passwords.

Charla swore in Old English.

She narrowed her eyes at her own reflection in the black screen. She shoved the laptop away and shut the lid, a tad more strongly than necessary, and stood.

“Lancer!” she announced. “Help me with my armor. Any minute now, the battalions will be assembled on floor twelve. I want to be there when Frost and the elf captain set the  **_oberons_ ** loose.”

“Yes, my lord Maine.”

“And make sure you tell Gawain to secure the little grey one in the vault.”

“Yes, my lord Maine.” 


	14. Family Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root finally gets some closure for his long-lost partner, Caionis! Sadface. Root and Butler complain about being old. Caionis has a trick up his sleeve that can help heal Butler from his injuries from The Last Guardian. Kortallen and the gang meet up with two of his buddies who were also captured by Knighthood. (I haven’t drawn them yet… I need to.) Charla takes a swing at Butler and Kortallen, and she’s gonna catch some hands.
> 
> Soundtrack 14: “Unbecoming” by Starset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names to pronounce:  
> Atyeurn = AH-TEE-urn  
> Zehava = zee-HA-VA  
> Zandeavor = zan-DEV-or

They pursued Drew’s trail of unconscious and bewildered knights through four levels of the compound. Butler couldn’t fathom it - his son was faster than him, even after being drained of energy for more than twelve consecutive hours and being literally shot back to health. He only seemed to grow stronger, as if his rage was fueling him as much as his natural energies.

Of course, Kortallen thought with a grin, because emotion _is_ energy. That’s part of the reason we’ve remained so strong since Norway. We’ve run on hatred and fear. And...perhaps a little bit of hope.

The knights that littered the compound floor clutched their lances in fear, or let them dangle from limp limbs. Some turned their heads to watch the three men storm past, but none got up or even moved to stop them. It was a sobering feeling, to realize that one has lost all power over a group one once oppressed with a single finger. These knights were used to being the top of the food chain, and getting tossed down to the lowest peg on the totem pole was too much to bear. And after being plowed through by a teenage dragon of five feet and eight inches, they weren’t about to face down one that was over seven feet, fully grown. Lucky choice.

The barrage thinned out the farther they went, because a woman’s pre-recorded voice kept humming throughout the corridors - Charla Maine, summoning her underlings to something called “the Keep.” Whatever was there, it wasn’t Drew. At least, not yet. But something there was worth more than him, worth protecting with all of the manpower Charla could muster. Butler had no clue as to what it was. A weapon, perhaps? Some giant energy bomb to go off at the last possible second and kill all of the dragons? But no, that wouldn’t achieve anything. Then, what?

They lost Drew on the ninth level, when there were no more knights for him to leave as a breadcrumb trail, and by then they had to stop because Butler’s heart couldn’t keep up. Breathing hard, he leaned onto the wall, clutching at his bulletproof vest.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he mentioned dourly to Root.

“You’re telling me,” the Commander said, equally doubled over with exhaustion.

Kortallen backtracked his way to them, completely unfazed, despite being old enough to have met King Arthur and all of his knights of the Round Table.

“You guys look like you’re having fun,” he smirked.

Butler merely glowered in response.

“Don’t wait up for us,” Root growled, “keep looking for Drew.”

Kortallen made to turn, but a look to the interior of the adjacent lab made him stop cold. Butler’s eyes followed the **_oberon’s_ ** line of sight to a row of adult-sized energy pods. All were vacant, save one. And in it was the limp form of a slate grey dragon. Male. Holly and Alpine would not have left one here on his own, that was sure, so perhaps Charla Maine had had the rest moved to another location. Or was he dead?

Kortallen approached the glass with a strained expression.

“ **_Asita meil vrion_ ** …” he breathed. “ _Caionis…_ ”

Root heard this, and needed no other trigger to initiate his next move. Butler watched a wave of sheer determination and rage bleed into his ruddy complexion, and the elf loosed three consecutive Neutrino burst into the lab door from a weapon that seemed to have teleported into its place in his hands. Then he stormed over and kicked the door open, marching in at a soldierly pace.

Butler followed with his weapon drawn, and surveyed the lab for knights. There were none, as all had been either knocked unconscious, scared senseless, or summoned to the Keep.

Root sank multiple aimless charges into the machine that was sucking the life out of his old draconic partner, and the equipment powered down audibly. The steady pulse of a heartbeat still issued from it - Caionis was not dead. He was breathing. And now that the machine was off, he looked to be regaining strength.

Caionis cracked open his eyes, which glowed at the sight of his former partner.

“Julius,” the oberon croaked.

Amazingly, Butler noted, the Commander seemed to be having no qualms lately with people using his first name. Normally it would have embarrassed him to no end. But then again, these were people who knew him centuries ago, when he was still a young Dragonologist. Perhaps he’d gotten prickly over his name because it linked him to the all of the people he’d lost fighting knights.

Root knew his partner was facing his final moments. The battle scars dusted across his hide were sickly green, unlike the slate grey of his scales, and his teal horns were scraped and dull. He had so many injuries that one’s eyes could barely distinguish his pink accents from them.

“You never stopped fighting them, did you? Even after they had you captured, you still wouldn’t go down.”

“You know I’m too proud for surrender, Julius,” Caionis said, grinning, “or at least I was. Is that Kortallen Pandalayn behind you?”

The named **_oberon_ ** knelt beside his fellow dragon. “Yes. I’m here.”

Caionis grasped Kortallen’s hand and held it against his chest. He spoke as if they were the oldest of friends. “What are you doing here, you stupid **_volcnar_ **? You’re supposed to be with the others… at Solace…”

“I couldn’t stay,” he replied, shaking his head, “not when another goes missing every other week. They took my best friends, and now my son. I had to do something. No matter what happens to me today, Knighthood is finished.”

“You have a son?” The ancient **_oberon_ ** smiled like a proud uncle. For all Butler knew, he very well could have been. “Is that the **_kiimuna_ ** whose aura I felt enter the compound this morning?”

“Yeah, he is.”

Caionis grinned, and the expression gave a solidity to his face. “He feels like a strong one. What’s his name?”

“Druvidian,” he said, and this time there was no shyness in his tone.

“‘Druvidian,’” Caionis repeated, tasting the name. “I like it.” At the end of this statement, the **_oberon_ ** spasmed with pain. He cried out, back arching at an improper angle. Kortallen felt the agony in his aura and winced, laying a steadying hand on the elder dragon’s side for support as he eased back down onto the pod.

“Caionis, where are the others? Where have they been taken?” Root demanded, though his voice was not its usual harsh tone.

“The others are...no doubt in a place that maintains higher security.”

“Why not you?”

Caionis closed his eyes. “Can’t you tell? My inner energies are nearly spent. This old battery is running toward the end of its life. I don’t have enough for them to collect with the rest, so they keep me here. I power the computer systems and the lights in this room, but that’s all. Everything else, they analyze in this lab. Study the effects of long-term draining and old age on the quality of energy.”

As if to accentuate his point, the computers on the far wall flickered.

“What’s the Keep?” Kortallen asked him.

Caionis’s eyes hovered over Butler’s figure for a brief moment before he answered. “They’re holding exactly seventeen other **_oberons_ ** there. Two have been released from there already, if my homing sense is still intact.”

Holly and Dragonologist Frost’s doing, Butler thought.

“But by now the knights have congregated on the only point of egress. None will leave that cage or enter it until Charla Maine’s dogs have been slaughtered.”

“And they will be,” Kortallen growled, adding a few layers of draconic bass to the words.

“What about the other teenager? Merianth?” Butler said, breaking his silence. Caionis did not flinch or recoil in hatred at the sound. He didn’t even question his place at Kortallen and Root’s side, or the fact that he was allied with them.

“Ah. That will be Zandeavor’s child. From what I could glean from the knights’ conversations, Charla Maine intends to use them as bait, in order to lure Druvidian to the Keep. There, she will either kill him or use him as a hostage to force the three of you to submit.”

Then Caionis spasmed again, and his steely eyes blinked back and forth between humanoid and dragonoid.

Suddenly Artemis’s voice crackled into the comms.

“Butler? Commander? Kortallen? Captain Short and Dragonologist Frost have reached their destination and they’ve released two of the female **_oberons_ **. They instructed me to check your status.”

Butler’s hand flew to his ear. “All clear here, Artemis, but we’ve found another.”

“I can’t see you. Link up another minicam.”

Root complied, setting up one of the microscopic cameras on the far wall of the room. Artemis assessed the situation and gave them his opinion, not that any had asked or desired for such.

“He’s dying,” the Irish boy said bluntly. “I can see the energy leaking out of him on Foaly’s specialized lens filters. Approximately twenty-six minutes and twelve seconds before h-”

“Thank you for your diagnosis, Doctor Fowl!” Root barked, covering his distraught inner self with shouting, as per usual. “But we’ve already come to the same conclusion. What I want to know is, can we save him?”

Artemis bit his lip. He understood that this dragon was clearly someone close to the Commander. But close or not, there was no way to force more energy into a life form that was so aged and damaged. The issue wasn’t one of energy, but of capacity to hold it. He told them as much.

Caionis coughed at the end of his statement, and blue sparks danced along his teeth. When he regained the strength to talk, his voice was strained.

“Julius. Kortallen. There is so much that I wish I could ask...and tell you. But my heartbeats are numbered now, and I know the count. I have...only a little energy left in me now. Let me use it.”

“What do you mean?” Root asked.

Caionis met Butler’s eyes directly, but once again there was no hatred.

“I sense in your aura that you are Druvidian’s human parent. But you’re afflicted - not just by age, but by a revival, and black magic. My energy is draconic, and therefore it will wash the magic from your body and heal you at the same time. And because you’re human, you would live for centuries.”

Butler took a step back.

Could he really do that with one little burst of energy? Had it ever been attempted before? And forget the probability of success - did he really _want_ that? Did he truly want to live for hundreds of years, becoming the oldest human on the planet? Could he face centuries more of combat and struggles with Artemis? With the People? With dragons?

“No,” Kortallen growled, shaking his head, “don’t do that. You know you have another option.”

“What what might that be?” Root inquired.

“Self-destruction. Detonation of the internal organs, the equivalent of a miniature nuclear bomb,” Kortallen explained sharply. “Please, Caionis. One life, versus the guaranteed destruction of Knighthood? Wait until we’re all clear, and then you can end it all here. Don’t waste your last energy.”

“And leave nothing left to help you find the others they have trapped all over the world?” Caionis retorted. “No. And I can also sense that this human...is very dear to Druvidian. Do you want him to be forced to face his death in a few decades?”

Kortallen glared up at Butler as if he hated him for existing. But in the end, he knew the decision wasn’t his to make.

“Well?” he asked nastily, “What do you think, _Butler_?”

The giant manservant met Caionis’s eyes again. The **_oberon_ ** was practically begging him to agree, and he knew that he’d seen too much violence in his life. He didn’t want to die even more violently.

And Butler realized what he could truly do with what he was being offered - he could outlive even Artemis, and never have to stop protecting either of them. He could spend his centuries watching Drew grow up and liberate the People like he promised. Perhaps, in the end, the wait would be worth it. He could watch humans and fairies come together in peace.

“I know you’re thinking about me, old friend,” Artemis said. “But this should not be done for my sake. For Druvidian alone will you do this.”

Butler sighed, and felt the motion tug at his chest. His heart. How much longer would that little organ last? How long until he was lying down on a bed, facing the same number of minutes as Caionis?

“Very well, Artemis. For Drew.”

“Will you consent?” Caionis asked, confirming what he already knew.

Butler nodded. “I will.”

“Then...” He took a deep, rib-cracking breath. “stand back...everyone. This light show might scorch a few retinas.”

Root nodded gravely, accepting, and flanked Kortallen, who marched out into the hallway without a word. Butler turned his back to the wall, not wanting to catch Kortallen’s harrowing glare. Caionis’s eyes began to glow, but he paused the process to ask Butler one last question.

“Do you intend to use your new life to be with him?”

Him.

The question was in reference, not to Drew, but to Kortallen.

Butler had not considered such a thing before. The tall **_oberon_** both feared and hated him, and their only bond was through Drew. It could hardly even be called a bond. But there was something peculiar stirring in his mind whenever he thought about Kortallen, now. He hadn’t put a name to it, as of yet. But it was there nonetheless, and quite prominently.

“Ah, well, it’s not...my business, I suppose,” Caionis conceded. “You don’t...seem the type to get invested in that sort of thing.”

“ _If_ I were,” Butler said, shifting in place, “I doubt Kortallen would be very agreeable to it now that I’ll be living off the last remnants of your existence.”

“He may be...in time.”

Then Caionis smiled, and his form began to glow. Out in the hall, Kortallen felt his friend’s aura throb with both energy and pain. They stood with their backs to the lab while Caionis’s dying light plastered their silhouettes onto the opposite wall. Root heard the roar of pain, which was a duet that Butler and Caionis both played a part in, and realized fully that he was witnessing the death of one of his own people. A scream like whale song split the air.

“I’m sorry,” Kortallen said to Root.

“Don’t,” Root growled, staring hard into the wall. “I mourned his passing centuries ago. I don’t want to drag up any more of my past today.”  
Then all was quiet.

Butler exited the lab, staring at his hands. He flexed his fingers, which felt softer and stronger than they had since he was in his twenties. In fact, his whole body felt like a twenty-year-old’s. Of course, that’s what he now was, in dragon terms.

Kortallen would not meet his eyes. But he was given an excuse to avoid them - an almighty thundering shook the compound to its roots, accompanied by dragonsong and the scent of fire. The other **_oberons_ ** were tearing the compound apart, and here they were wasting time.

Kortallen sent his fellow parent a look that was so articulate Butler could have sworn he spoke aloud.

_You had better fight with every last inch of power Caionis gave you._

_Do not dishonor his memory._

And they charged off to join the battle.

 

The halls were empty now, or so it seemed. As they sprinted onward, the knights appeared to be running _away_ from them, rather than _toward_. But they neared the source of the clamor, and Butler realized that the knights were running toward something after all.

They emerged into an antechamber of sorts, and the first thing that met them was the backside of an indigo dragon with violet horns and golden accents running down her frame like tattoos. The female **_oberon_ ** was engaged in a vicious duel with seven knights, in her semi-humanoid form, and she rendered them incapacitated with kicks and strikes that were almost too fast for even Butler to track. She was only six feet tall, small for a dragon, and quite wiry, but she felled her opponents in less than thirty seconds. She killed the last one with a slash across the back of the neck with her claws, and set his body ablaze with a burst of blue flame and a self-indulgent roar.

Another two knights rushed in behind her, and Butler was the only one quick enough to catch them. He fired two shots and killed both without even blinking.

The woman snapped up her head when she realized she wasn’t alone, pose positively predatory. Butler raised his gun again, on instinct, but it wasn’t necessary - the dragon saw Kortallen, and the act was dropped.

“Kortallen?!”

“Atyeurn!” Kortallen exclaimed, letting her latch onto him with a fierce hug. “ **_Hayatey, zhako!_ ** ”

Atyeurn’s purple and yellow hair concealed half of her face when she pulled away. Her accent was that of a Londoner.

“Tallen, what the _hell_ are you doing here?”

Kortallen looked down at her with a dazzling, fanged grin, laughter in his eyes. This was obviously one of the best friends he’d mentioned, judging by the way she referred to him with a nickname.

“It’s doomsday, Ati, that’s what. And what about your wife? Where’s Zehava?”

A thunderous roar made the ground tremble from the direction of the far wall, which then exploded inward to admit a _gigantic_ brown **_oberon_ ** with olive green tones and muddy purple horns, who was built like a tank. Holly and Alpine clung to either side of her bulky torso, firing in sync. Atyeurn grinned as her wife ripped a group of twelve knights apart, who all went screaming to their demise.

The brown dragon ended her combat with a trumpeting bellow, turning her massive, bulky head around to look at the others.

She was bigger than Kortallen, with bulging shoulder and neck muscles, and thick, leathery scales built to withstand virtually anything. When she reduced herself to a semi-humanoid form, Zehava was revealed to be a few inches shorter than Kortallen. Her hair was cut near down to the scalp, colored muddy purple, and through some miracle of evolution she was _bigger_ than Butler.

Zehava grinned and embraced Kortallen in a hug that would have snapped a decent-sized human in half.

“Thanks for the assistance, ladies,” Holly said, breathing steady. “It’s been fun.”

“Don’t thank us just yet, Captain,” Atyeurn told her with a grin, moving to her wife’s side. “We still have boundless knight arse to kick, and my legs are positively on fire for it.”

Zehava’s first comment was, “Who’s the human?”

Butler was expecting her to have a deep, booming voice, but instead it was mild, and clearly Australian. He straightened himself, lowering his gun. Best not make a bad first impression with the giant woman who could probably rip him in half. Again, a feeling he was not used to. Before he could introduce himself, Kortallen took the lead.

“He’s...the father of my child.”

“Yeah, and speaking of him, Commander, where is Drew?” Holly said, cutting right to the chase. “Did you find him?”

Root cut straight to the chase as well. “We did. But he led us on a hunt through three levels, and basically decimated a good fifth of the knights stationed down here, looking for his friend.”

Artemis’s voice ended the conversation there.

“This little reunion has been fun, ladies and gentlemen, but time is running short. Druvidian is closing in on the Keep as we speak, and I don’t think I need to describe to you what kind of arsenal he’ll be facing if he makes it there on his own.”

“He won’t,” Butler rumbled, reloading his gun. “Come on, folks, we’ve wasted enough time here. Charla Maine has her crosshairs on my son.”

Zehava and Atyeurn grinned.

“Let’s see if we can’t redirect her attentions, shall we?” said Atyeurn.

“What do you have in mind?”

 

They found Drew in the belly of the beast, the most dangerous place in the entire compound, the one place he wanted to be. The one place Charla Maine knew he would be drawn to by the aura he was chasing. It was a concrete cube, so large that any one dragon could accelerate to top flying speed by the time they reached the opposite end: the balcony and the reinforced doors. Two score of tanks, as Kortallen had suggested, and a legion of white-clad knights with iron lances stood between him and his friend. It was the bottleneck to end all bottlenecks.

The Keep.

Drew stood alone at the forefront of the army, glowing blue eyes boring right through those of the blonde woman in white and red armor on the concrete balcony, who was flanked by Lancer and five of the biggest knights at her disposal. Charla smirked down at him from behind rows of tanks and men.

“ **_Give. Me. Back. My. Merry,_ ** ” Drew growled, head trembling in pure rage. His voice carried across the chamber, floating over the heads of the knights, who had a good chuckle at his diction.

Charla giggled girlishly along with them, but it was not a genuine expression. The cold look in his eyes made her very familiar with the understanding that this boy truly, desperately, wanted to kill her. His words were simplistic to the point of childishness, but he was half-dragon and half-Butler.

And that made him absolutely terrifying.

“You’re a stupid little boy, coming in here all on your own. You think you can take back your friend just by yourself?” Charla taunted him.

Drew replied, “Yeah. I do.”

The knights laughed again.

“Well, you’re going to have to fight your way through every single one of my men if you want to get this door open,” she said. “And then, you’ll have to torture me if you ever want the code for it. You don’t have the stomach for something like that, do you?”

Drew extended his wings to their full span.

“Maybe not. Hell, I don’t even have the stomach for Indian food. But I don’t need it. I’ve got friends who do, and family. And if I get hurt here, it’s not  _ me _ you’re going to have to worry about.”

As if on cue, Drew’s family, friends, and allies charged in and arranged themselves behind him, glowering across the expanse. Butler held himself like the seasoned warrior he was in the saddle, Sig drawn, Kortallen snorting and stamping the ground beneath him like a crazed stallion. Holly and Root and Alpine had their weapons primed, spread out in a fan. They looked fit to conquer a continent, but even then they were not the most intimidating members of the opposition.

Druvidian alone held that title.

“Oh, look,” Charla said, maintaining her aloof tone. “Daddy’s here.”

Butler wasn’t sure if she was referring to him or Kortallen, but he assumed she was only concerned with one of them. True to Knighthood’s discriminatory nature, Charla Maine believed that Drew had “traditional” parents. So he decided to set her straight.

“Yes,” he said, voice low, “we are.”

As predicted, Charla made a face.

“Oh.” She looked between Butler and Kortallen. “Oh, I see. So you were the pilot in the plane, were you? And that makes the  **_oberon_ ** your…” She stopped to shudder. “That’s just wrong. Your son is bad enough, being one of that ‘transgender’ lot.”

Druvidian roared then, and the knights in front stepped back a few paces. His wings extended straight up, making him look four times bigger. The volume of his rage made the walls shake. He could stomach being talked down to and being misgendered all day long if he really had to, but all bets were off now that the Knighthood highlord had insulted his parents.

“ **_Knng kiore zhe va!_ ** ” he cursed at her. “You can say whatever you like about me, but don’t you  _ dare _ bring my dads into it!”

“Artemis, what’s taking them so long?” Butler whispered into his earpiece.

Charla retorted, “You have your belief system, and I have mine, though one is far superior to the other. May the better system triumph at the end of the day.”

“Superior?” Alpine growled. “How is an ideology that ostracizes people for being different superior? How is an ideology that persecutes them for loving another person superior? How is an organization that profits from the subjection, torture, vivisection, and destruction of other races in  _ any way superior? _ ”

“How dare you speak to me in that tone, sprite?!”

“Case in damn point!” Root shouted, rolling his eyes.

“Say the word, Commander,” Holly told him, raising her Neutrino, “I’ll put a blast right through that cross on her chest.”

“Negative, Short. Wait for the signal.”

Then a treacherous rumbling overcame the Keep. The ceiling rained down chunks of concrete and dust, showering the knights with flecks of their castle. Heads swivelled instinctively upward to watch as spiderweb cracks began to form…

...right above where the army was standing.

In the next feverish second, the whole area caved in. Two  **_oberons_ ** , purple and brown, dove upon the knights like hawks on mice, inciting chaos meanwhile the concrete boulders levelled the ranks around them. Zehava’s tail clipped the railing on the balcony, ripping it right off. Charla fell back, but found her footing immediately. She ordered her men to converge upon the female dragons.

“Welp, there’s the signal,” Holly grinned, and she shot the space between Charla’s calves.


	15. Saint George's Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s where the fighting gets good. The crew seriously bashes some heads in, and Holly is enjoying herself WAY too much. Meanwhile, Artemis is going to town up in his hidey hole. Kortallen tells it like it is. And then Agent Lancer sneaks off with Alpine on his tail, and she gets her revenge. (Love that scene.) Drew finally gets to let his fire loose, and Juliet shows up to the party. Butler gets the last word over Charla Maine, FINALLY, in the best way possible - by destroying every single argument that Knighthood has. (Also love his line OMG.) I figure it’s appropriate, considering the new state of the IRL United States. Oh, and Julius has what’s probably the best day of his life, courtesy of Arty. 
> 
> Soundtrack 15: “Monster” by Starset.

Drew roared at the same time as his fathers, and he charged, transforming as he ran. His white dragonoid form crashed into two tanks at once, denting both and mangling their fronts beyond repair. Kortallen and Butler flanked him, entangled in knights who scrambled to pull the  **_oberon’s_ ** head down so they could shove their lances down his throat and puncture his heart. Butler shot them all in cold blood, though his own was boiling with action, and Kortallen carved a section of them away with his tail.

Atyeurn and Zehava took turns bouncing knights between them like footballs, prying the men off when they scrambled to tie their heads down. Blue and white fire jettisoned from their mouths, respectively, and when the tanks started to shoot, they moved to crush them.

The smallest three fairies attacked as a team, using their height to their advantage. While the knights were focused upon the giants above, Holly, Root, and Alpine took them out at the ankles. Neutrinos fired, and men went down in a blur. 

It was bloody chaos.

Butler fought with rigor he hadn’t known since his late teens. Physical exhaustion was just a thing unknown to him now, which he relished as he plowed through knight after knight. He laid them all out with moves he hadn’t pulled off in years, which probably would have snapped something crucial in his back had he attempted them later on. 

His hyperbolic side said he had no idea what to do with all of this energy, but his soldierly side knew exactly what to do. And so he did. With extreme pleasure.

He incapacitated knights before their brains even had time to register the pain.

It was a quiet battle, (save, of course, for the dragons) in that there was statistically very little gunfire. All of the knights were armed with iron lances for killing dragons. The only actual human gun was Butler’s, the Neutrinos were relatively hushed, and the tanks didn’t actually fire lead projectiles - they were instead loaded with little pods that latched onto the dragons’ scales and leeched the energy from them. When the pods were full, they popped off and dropped to the ground, sealed and ready to sell. It had a noticeable effect on the  **_oberons_ ** , but Drew could barely be slowed. 

Up in his utility closet, Artemis scoffed disdainfully. Knighthood had even found a way to profit from the energy expended in combat.

How resourceful, he thought with a sneer. Capitalism at its finest.

And all the while, Charla Maine shouted orders in Old English from the balcony, believing that none but her soldiers could understand. Meanwhile, Artemis let his brain undo her work - translating every order and relaying it to the others.

The  **_oberons_ ** watched Drew fell his opponents, impressed. He blazed through them like they were made of paper, the rage energizing his every move. Kortallen sent him a draconic grin when they made eye contact, and then had to bash his headblade into a knight who was getting a bit too close for comfort.

“Their armor is pretty useless, wouldn’t you say?” Holly remarked over the comms.

“Indeed,” Artemis informed them. “It would seem that their anti-energy functions have been compromised. Typically they absorb all of the energy from dragonfire and other sources so it can be sold. Though, it’s almost as if they’ve been hacked by an outside source…”

Of course, Butler thought. Their suits are all linked to the Tower’s internal network.

“Good man, Arty,” Holly said as she grinned.

“Not much for defense against bullets or impact, either,” Root said.

“They took a leaf out of Hitler’s book,” Alpine said in-between shots. “Make the suits look all fancy and intimidating, when they’re really just functionally useless. A lot of egotistical grandstanding is all it is. And I think it’s finally going to get the best of them.”

Holly grunted as she was clipped across the arm with the back end of a spear. She promptly put an end to knight in question’s tirade.

“Let’s hope it does.”

“And what happened to all of those goblins we were supposedly up against, huh, Mud Boy?” said Root over the electric blast of his gun.

“Charla Maine finally figured out that her ‘secret’ communication system was compromised. Rumor has it she decided to have all of the goblins killed, so that word of her operations cannot reach any ears above or below ground,” Alpine told him grimly.

“Perhaps,” Artemis said after a time, doubt heavy in his tone. “Though, Commander, you may want to investigate sector 6-0-8-1-1-N at a later time. Its contents should interest you.” There was a hint of a smile in his vowels.

Intrigued, Root filed the information away in his brain.

“Let’s focus on the extraneous stuff later, Arty,” Holly reprimanded him. “For now, see if you can’t hack one of those tanks. I want to try to put one of those little energy pod things between Charla Maine’s perfect eyebrows.”

 

Charla gripped her double-ended spear until her knuckles changed color. Multiple times. She couldn’t fathom it. 

_ How are these heathens and fairies destroying my knights with such ease?! _ she thought.  _ Knighthood is the highest order of the human race! We’ve killed dragons and forced the other fairy races below ground, where they belong! History is on our side! _

Her fury and indignation created a beacon, which lured Kortallen straight to her from his position on the battlefield. Butler leapt down into the throng, which lifted the weight that kept the  **_oberon_ ** from taking flight. He spread his wings and let them propel him into air, and sailed across the Keep to where Charla stood, surrounded by her pentagon of bodyguards, and a cowering Agent Lancer.

Kortallen crashed into the balcony feet-first. He dug his green talons into the concrete and ripped the knights away like bandages, until Charla was left standing on her own with only Lancer and a spear that was worthless without a way to keep his head still.

And he obviously wasn’t going to sit still and be a pretty target for her, was he?

Kortallen roared right in her face, and she fell back onto the floor. He let himself become semi-humanoid as he leered down over her, wings extended in the shape of a cage, green flames licking the inside of his grinning mouth.

“ **_You took my son from me,_ ** ” he growled over the din. “ **_Not just once, but twice. Did you really think you were going to get away with that?_ ** ”

“Your people will suffer for this,” Charla hissed.

Kortallen snorted.

“ **_Fascist._ ** ”

He was prepared to end her life right then and there, but Artemis was in his ear telling him to regroup immediately. With a roar, he took off from the balcony and returned to Butler’s side.

It was then that Agent Lancer decided to cut his many losses and abandon his lord. He tucked his head down and ran, slipping out of the Keep with his laptop in tow. Artemis had disabled all elevator systems, so he was forced to take the stairs. He panted and stumbled all the way. His was a body made for sitting in office spaces and doing business, not scrambling around a multi-story compound under siege by dragons. 

Lancer had a plan, of sorts - Charla had established a protocol between them that if Knighthood Tower should ever be in danger of total compromise (or should she be willing to admit the situation was so dire), he was to evacuate the building, and broadcast all video evidence of fairies on his phone and laptop to the outside world once he established an external wifi connection.

By the time he reached the ground floor, he was about to collapse. His legs felt like fire beneath him as he crossed the lobby. The dawn light teased him from afar, calling him. His hand came to rest on the glass door handle, but it was locked. A keycard was required, along with a genetic scan.

Swearing in Old English, he fumbled with his suit pocket for the keycard.

Little did he know, two pairs of eyes were upon him.

“I don’t think so, Agent Lancer,” Artemis purred behind his laptop. “I see you hiding there.” He typed a string of code, and shut down all electronic exit points.

He saw the little man on the minicam footage swipe his keycard across the scanner once, twice, six times before tossing it in a rage and going for the physical approach. He set down his laptop and punched the glass, knowing full well that it was bullet-and-bomb-proof. As Lancer beat on the doors, Alpine Frost approached him from behind. She had followed him all the way here, completely undetected. 

If Artemis could have seen her face from that angle, it would have cowed him. She ran up and tased Lancer in the back of the leg, right on his knee. Suddenly all of his muscles spasmed, and standing seemed a task to complicated to continue. He collapsed, ginger hair smoking a little bit.

Alpine stooped over him, breathing hard. She replaced the taser in her hands with Holly’s spare Neutrino, and levelled it at Lancer’s head.

“Excellent work, Dragonologist Frost,” Artemis said hurriedly. “You’ve bested him. There’s no need to do anything further.”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Alpine said through grit teeth, “there  _ is _ .”

She flicked off the safety on her weapon and poked it between Lancer’s unconscious eyes. She narrowed hers.

“Dragonologist, I urge you not to do anything you will regret.”

“You think I’ll regret this?!” she demanded, looking straight into the camera. Her hair was mussed from the fight, and there was something wild in the slant of her eyes. “You have...no idea what kinds of humiliating, disgusting, vile things these men have made me do. For centuries, I have been their slave. And  _ this one _ forced me to make him coffee.  _ Every. Single. Day _ ,” and she jabbed him with the barrel of her gun as she said each word.

“You do not need to kill him,” Artemis told her, trying to soothe her with his tone.

“ _ I have three PhD’s! _ ” she bellowed at Lancer’s face. “ _ Three! I’m not your barista! _ ”

She was making little red indentations in the Knighthood agent’s skin with each jab, and the last one roused him. Lancer moaned, eyes crossing to focus blearily on the gun at his head.

“If you kill him now, Dragonologist Frost, you will only lower yourself to his level.”

Alpine looked at the minicam again, and this time her rage was controlled.

“No, Artemis Fowl,” she told him. “No, I will not. The world will be better off without this Mud Man. Killing him quickly will be a kindness that I would not afford him in any other circumstance. And I’m done letting humans tell me what to do.”

Then she shot Agent Lancer in the head, three times, with her Neutrino at the highest, most lethal setting.

 

Drew was locked in a dance with a group of four knights. He circled them, and they circled back. He stamped the ground, letting it unbalance them. When he lashed out with his full head, they rushed him and clamped down on his horns. Scared, he backpedaled and thrashed, trying to throw the knights off. His attempts proved unsuccessful. Butler saw him struggling from afar, and unloaded a full magazine into the knights attacking his son. Seven cried out and fell, but there were still enough to keep Drew stationary. 

Atyeurn and Zehava were busy on the opposite side of the Keep, too far to help, and Kortallen was already engaged. Root and Holly both were shielded, and Alpine was nowhere to be seen.

Butler bolted toward his son, but a tank came between them. Drew was stranded from the rest, at the mercy of a growing number of knights. He let his lungs explode, hoping the sound would drive them away, which it did not. They only strengthened in their resolve, each as desperate as the next to please their lord. 

They dragged Drew across the battlefield to where Charla Maine stood, and he couldn’t transform to his humanoid or semi-humanoid selves because he knew he would be at a disadvantage of both size and strength. Charla leered down at him from her high perch. His head was brought down to the ground, and the knights put all of their weight onto him to keep him down.

“What are you waiting for?” Charla said. “You know what to do. Kill the boy.”

If Drew had been humanoid, he would have screamed. But in this form, the sound came out as a duet between a shrill and whalesong.

He needed to use his fire.

And as soon as the revelation manifested, that cold heat materialized in his chest. The secondary set of fire lungs glowed from inside his ribcage. The knights latched their gauntlets around his snout, unaware, and wrenched his mouth open. Another stood at the ready with his lance, grinning, sadistic. The thought of killing a teenager was not repulsive to him. The teenager’s race was more important than his existence.

Drew heard both of his parents bellow his name from a distance, in slow motion. His eyes snapped up to Charla’s, and then to the spear aimed at his mouth. Another jolt of fear ran through him, pure untempered emotion, and it provided the last burst of energy he needed to let the flames billow forth from his open maw and incinerate his would-be murderer.

The action stilled for a bit. It was only a split second, but it was enough time for all of Drew’s allies to witness him single-handedly set his section of the battlefield ablaze.

The draconic teen roared, rearing his black-horned head up to the ceiling. Brilliant blue flame exploded from his open mouth, which he let wave back and forth to spread the blaze further. The flames dripped like liquid down the sides of his snout. Then he sank heavily back on all fours, exhaling blast upon blast onto the knights, who now ran from him very quickly indeed.

Kortallen watched his son rampage with wild eyes, laughing with the earthly gravel and booming bass of his draconic voice. He and his friends then joined the  **_kiimuna_ ** in his conquest to torch the whole Keep down. 

“ **_Erendior, vakiimune!_ ** ” Kortallen told him proudly.  _ Very good, my child! _

Drew trumpeted at him with equal pride. But then he became humanoid and fell to his knees, energy spent. Butler rushed to his side, letting Kortallen do the work of covering the both of them. He propped his son’s limp frame up on his knee, checking him over. He was breathing hard and shaking, but he did it with a cynical smile on his face.

“Okay, that’s enough fighting for you, young man,” Butler said.

“Did I...do good?”

“Yes. Sleep now, and leave the rest of this to us. We’ll find Merry.”

But by the time he got through the second sentence, Drew was already unconscious. Butler smiled for half a second, and hoisted his son up onto his shoulder.

“I need to get Drew out of here,” Butler informed the others.

“Go,” Holly told him. “We’ll fight them off here. When we’re done, we’ll rescue all of the dragons we can and evacuate. If Charla’s lying about there being any dragons at all, and there’s a giant bomb waiting for us in that cage, well…we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

“Ten-four.”

Butler mounted Kortallen, securing Drew on the saddle in front of him, and the  **_oberon_ ** leapt over the knights’ heads as he made for the exit. Charla noticed this take place.

“ _ Follow them! _ ” she screamed. “ _ Do not let them leave the compound, under any circumstances! _ ”

A trail of knights pursued them on foot. Kortallen thundered through the halls, and the blade of his tail bashed into the walls for the duration of the journey, shattering glass and busting support beams. Hallways crumbled to dust in their wake, until there was no possible route for them to be followed through but an external one. And that was not available at this point in time.

The ground floor (and Alpine, Artemis, and Lancer’s body with it) finally greeted them. And in the few minutes that had elapsed since Lancer’s death, a mob of protesters had appeared outside. Hundreds, no  _ thousands  _ of people were congregating upon the Tower, holding up signs with rainbows and slogans in support of all different races and social groups. They saw what Alpine had done, they saw what she was, and finally the pieces of the human puzzle were coming together.

“Looks like word’s gotten out,” she remarked. “All of those rumors about the People are being believed. And now Knighthood has this to contend with, if it survives the day. Finally humans understand what this organization really stands for. Hatred.”

“Figures they’d be congregating now,” Butler told her, “half of the city could have collapsed while we were underground. For all we know, it did. And it would only take so much time before people figured out where the epicenter of the quakes was.”

His next glance at the glass gave him the full story, though.

At the front of the crowd was, coincidentally enough, Juliet, surrounded by a gang of burly men and women Butler recognized as her wrestling buddies from Russia and Mexico. Collectively they were the loudest and rowdiest of the protesters, jumping and shouting from atop each other’s shoulders, dressed in all black with neon slogans on their shirts. Juliet saw her brother and winked at him, that familial secret language they shared, and she grinned at him from beneath the neon green stripes on her face.

Butler smiled, winking back. So  _ she  _ had organized all of this.

He dismounted and went over to the utility closet that Artemis occupied. He notified his charge that he was going to break the lock, which he then did with bullets, and cleared away the camouflage. The Irish boy looked a tad shaken, having watched Alpine murder Agent Lancer, but he was thrilled to be duelling Knighthood on the digital plane. At least  _ someone  _ was having fun.

Now, priorities. He needed to get Artemis out as soon as possible, now that his part of the mission was over, but Kortallen wouldn’t be able to support the weight of two human teenagers  _ and  _ a giant. That left Alpine. As much as he wasn’t fond of the idea of entrusting the safety of his principal to a sprite he’d known for only a few hours, time was short. And she was an ally, nonetheless.

Butler nodded. “Right, then, Artemis, I want you to go with the Dragonologist. It’s time for you to get out of here, before this place comes crashing down.”

“But Butler, won’t the others need my guidance?” Artemis protested, not too enchanted with the idea of being stuck with the sprite. 

“Not if there’s a giant bomb waiting for them on the other side of that door.”

Artemis blinked. “Ah. Very well.”

“Dragonologist,” Butler said, turning, “I’m going to need your gun.”

“What for?”

“You’ve got Captain Short’s taser. Use it on whomever you need to get Artemis somewhere safe. I have my own plans for Charla Maine that involve that Neutrino.”

Reluctant, Alpine handed the weapon over. Artemis took a moment to reactivate the emergency exit on the south side of the tower, and stuff a few more viruses into Knighthood’s system, just for fun, and then shut his laptop. Alpine took him by the hand and led him out to safety, which ended up being a library a few streets over, while Butler resumed checking over his son for damages.

“Commander, how are things down there?” he said, hoping that the comms would still work without Artemis’s laptop.

“I think that’s the last of them,” Root replied as he struck one final knight on the weak spot in his armor. He assessed the wreckage of the Keep, and of the remains of the roof. Zehava and Atyeurn were at work trying to ram their way through the reinforced doors. Some of the unconscious knights were waking up, stragglers making for an exit, and Root picked them off as they went.

“And Charla Maine?” Butler asked.

“Disappeared. I instructed Captain Short to evacuate and pick up the shuttle, so the protesters won’t get ahold of it on accident. Alpine notified me.”

“Good thinking. What’s the status on that door?”

Root glanced over. “These ladies are having a good old time trying to knock it down. Shame we don’t have the code.”

“She never would have given it up anyway,” Butler said. And then, “It doesn’t feel like our usual excursions, does it? I would have expected a bit more of a struggle from Knighthood.”

Root chuckled.

“That’s the thing about organizations like these - they’re built and operated on a code of fear. Their only power comes from being untouchable, because people who are afraid are reluctant to attack. But as soon as people stop being afraid of them, they don’t work anymore.”

Just as the elf’s hand went down to finally retrieve a cigar from the pouch on his belt, the Keep door gave way under Zehava and Atyeurn’s combined weight and fire. Root jumped, but the motion was barely visible. The two women rushed in to revive their paralyzed friends, giving him the all-clear. No bombs, then.

Root breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mission accomplished - we’ve got the door open. And it looks like these two have got this under control, so I’m off to see what that secret sector was that Artemis mentioned.”

The elf tucked his Neutrino under his arm and pulled up the compound schematics again. A little green blip pulsed five floors below him, labelled 6-0-8-1-1-N.  _ “X” marks the spot, _ he thought, and jogged to the nearest staircase.

 

Artemis was as good as his scholarly word. What the Commander found at the secret sector was better than he could have hoped. Ten minutes of steady pace yielded his discovery. Invisible, he crept down the dim hall, gun at the ready, stealthy. The wall at the end was made of fireproof glass, and behind it was a dark mass. Slightly green, shifting around in place. Scaly…

You cannot be serious, Root thought.

He unshielded and grinned, propping the Neutrino up on his shoulder.

The glass room was actually a cage, and next to a hundred goblins in handcuffs were stuffed inside it, just waiting for someone to come along and take them all to jail. They were in a right foul mood, hissing at each other and telling stupid jokes, bemoaning the fact that there was no more junk food forthcoming. They were in an even  _ worse  _ mood when they saw the elfin Commander casually strolling his way down the hall with a dangerous gleam in his muddy eyes.

Most of the lot being ex-Bwa’Kell members, the goblins groaned at his approach, shrinking back from the glass. There was a collective moment of realization for the ones in the back.

“ _ D’arvit.... _ ”

“ _ This just ain’t fair! _ ”

“ _ My mommy’s not going to be happy when she hears about this… _ ”

“ _Aww,_ _no way..._ ”

Root’s grin expanded as he finally lit a cigar, letting the smoke puff up into the sound vents of the goblins’ cage.

“Yes, way,” he told them. “And it looks like every single one of you is under arrest.”

The goblins all groaned at once.

I do believe the Fowl kid just consciously made my day, Root thought.

As soon as the notification reached him that all dragons had been recovered, Butler heard a series of shouts and a boom - the hallmarks of a bomb explosion. So the knights were trying to blast their way through the rubble of the lower levels. 

His first instinct was to have Kortallen break the front doors of the Tower, but that would leave the protesters and knights at the mercy of each other. And while he relished the thought of London’s people tearing into the compound, he also cared for their safety. So, the front door was not an option. And if they broke through the glass on a higher level, it would only rain down upon the people below. It would have to be up and away.

Kortallen gave him the signal for  _ climb on _ , which he did. The protesters outside marveled at the oberon, taking as many pictures and videos as their phones could hold. Kortallen gave them all a flash of his wings, for show, and leapt his way up through the Tower.

 

When the battle had taken a turn for the worse, Charla had copied Agent Lancer’s maneuver - run. But her running was much more sophisticated in both manner and intent. Charla was running to her private elevator, which ran on its own independent system. Artemis had not been able to compromise or even find it, which was how she had gotten herself and Lancer down to the Keep so quickly.

She knew about the protesters, and calculated that the  **_oberon_ ** and the helicopter pilot would exit through the roof. The knights she sent after them were only a decoy, for the most part, so she could intercept them when they thought they were in the clear.

I’m not finished with you yet, she thought.

Charla stopped the elevator at her penthouse office. With an athletic spring in her high-heeled step, she retrieved the handgun from underneath her desk. There was a rumbling noise coming toward her from below.

_ There you are. _

And just in time, Charla ducked beneath her desk. Kortallen blazed through, not seeing her. And though he was not being pursued by knights, currently, he ran like it. Charla let him pass through to the next level and then bust open the door with his battering ram of a head before she followed.

Her mane of blond hair was full of dust and disheveled, armor scratched, and her makeup smeared off to the left, but all of that was irrelevant. She had been trained from a very young age (younger, even, than the Butler family) to protect what was hers. And though she did not possess the same kind of training, or nearly the same level, Charla had a ferocity to her that she intended to use as her last resort. One final act to save an organization she believed she had brought up from ruins.

When she got to the roof, there she saw Butler. He was running at full pelt, on the ground, with Drew slung over his shoulder.

“ _ Stop!!! _ ” Charla shrilled, raising the handgun. “ _ I will not allow you to leave with that dragon! _ ”

Butler turned, dark eyes cold and unforgiving. He gave a nod to something behind her, which was barely visible, and the half-crazed woman found herself disarmed by a single blow from Kortallen’s tail. The handgun sailed through the air and careened the many hundreds of feet down to the pavement, where an unsuspecting protester would pick it up and later auction it off as an antique on Ebay for several thousand dollars.

Charla screamed as the dragonoid  **_oberon_ ** flew up from behind her. But instead of ending her life right then and there, he moved to stand behind Butler. He spread his wings in open challenge, daring her to try to harm his son now.

“ _ You cannot do this!! Knighthood is an ancient entity, sacred! What will happen to its values and its chivalry if you end it like this? _ ”

In that moment, Butler almost pitied the woman.

Standing on the roof of the tower, with the wind tearing at her hair and whipping her body-hugging armor, she looked like an absolute lunatic. There was a crazed bloodshot quality to her eyes. She was a woman holding onto the last shred of a dying cult, and it showed.

“Knights have never been chivalrous, Charla,” Butler said levelly. “Sure, they were courteous and righteous to their own chosen kind, but your ancestors were also murderers and thieves who stole the planet from peace-loving people, and I’m not just talking about dragons and fairies, here. You’re trying to maintain the legacy of men who would never have let a woman come into absolute power, and who tried to eradicate a whole society that they considered ‘impure.’”

Charla bared her teeth.

“ _ No. I am trying to restore this world’s superpower. I’m protecting it from monsters and heathens and deviants. And I will not allow you to disgrace my ancestors in this way. I must uphold their traditions. Their teachings. I have a duty! _ ”

Butler resisted the urge to put his free hand over his face.

“Your ancestors are dead, Charla. They can’t give a damn about you, or anything else.”

“ _ They still believed in what is right!! _ ”

“How is any of this  _ right _ ?” Butler retorted. “Honestly. You profit from torturing dragons. You persecute those who love someone of the same gender, or who were born with unmatched bodies. You treat non-Christians and non-whites and non-humans like the scum of the earth. You alienate the less-fortunate, and you kill and discredit any who dare to question your precious traditional values. Is any of that virtuous? Is it noble? Is it just? No. It’s fascism.”

“ _ You don’t understan- _ ” Charla tried.

“Admit it, Charla, all of this is falling to pieces as we speak,” Butler told her, gesturing around. “Just let Knighthood die already. It’s outlived its time. Come live with us in the twenty-first century, and stop pretending you’re in the twelfth.”

“ _ No!! _ ” the woman screeched. “ _ No, I will not!! This world has become corrupt! Returning to the old traditions is the only thing that can save you stupid little people! _ ” 

Butler sighed raggedly, knowing deep down that he would never be able to convince her of her flawed traditions.

“Charla, I have seen things that prove your theories wrong ten times over. Signs and miracles that defy all imagination. And do you know what the greatest of those things is?” He patted Drew’s leg. “My son. This bright, brilliant, talented boy has shown me a new way of life. And now, with Knighthood out of the way for good, I truly believe it’s going to be the best part of mine.”

Charla fish-mouthed, trying to find something to scream back at him in retort. But she found none.

“One more thing,” Butler announced, holding Alpine’s gun level with her chest. The weapon appeared to have materialized in his hand, so quick he was to draw it. “Your name has got to be the stupidest pun I’ve ever heard.”

Then he fired.

The shock of the blast, though not set to be lethal, made her whole body judder spasmodically, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Charla fell backwards off the top of the tower. Her body careened for two stories. 

To any onlookers or protesters, it would appear that she disappeared into thin air. But really, Holly was waiting with an open-roofed shuttle and a gel pad. When Charla’s unconscious body hit the bottom, the whole shuttle dropped about ten feet. 

Then it was over.

“We’ll mind-wipe her and relocate her somewhere particularly desolate,” Holly said over the comms, “along with all of the knights we can track down. But, mission accomplished.” 

Butler nodded and disconnected from the external link. He slightly regretted that he’d decided not to outright kill Charla Maine. But now it was over, and she would be mind-wiped so thoroughly that she was as good as dead. There was no need to take it further than that. Enough people had died bloody today.

Kortallen lowered himself so that Butler could mount. He strapped Drew into the saddle’s seat, and sat behind. Then they flew, and without a shield, the whole of early-rising London witnessed a man and his son riding an honest-to-gods dragon back to Ireland.


	16. Merry Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this chapter almost made me cry like 3 times… This is how me and Mary are going to react when we finally meet IRL, no joke, we’ve already got the whole thing planned out. (Hint: we’re going to run at each other like big gay battering rams and scream and cry. It’s gonna be glorious. :3). Foaly gets to be a memelord again. Mulch finally gets his resolution by pranking Drew. (Also if you couldn’t figure it out, Orion Raven is supposed to be the Artemis Fowl series. Because I’m a nerd like that. We both are.) 
> 
> Soundtrack 16: “Wish That You Were Here” by Florence and the Machine.

Drew stirred from his sleep in perhaps the most pleasant of ways. The room was the perfect temperature. He was tucked under the covers, freshly cleaned, and the Irish sunlight streamed through his window onto his face. He felt so...tranquil. There was a warm hand running through his hair, thumb running back and forth across his forehead affectionately. 

He laid there, compliant to every sensation, and stayed that way for quite a few minutes. He just wanted to experience it all for a while. Wanted to soak in the feeling of being completely safe, warm, and happy. But then Drew cracked a slow smile, overcome with the sense of security and bliss.

“Hey, Dad…” he whispered.

Butler smiled. He looked and felt decades younger than he had the previous day. “How do you feel?”

The draconic teen opened his eyes and grinned.

“Good. Really….really good. Did we-?”

“Beat Knighthood?” Butler finished for him. “Yes. We did. None of you will ever have to worry about them again. You’re safe now.”

Drew inhaled and exhaled a sigh that cleansed him from top to bottom. “Good.”

He appeared to fall back asleep. Butler let him, knowing that this sensation of content was a rare thing for the both of them. The light continued to flow in and absorb into Drew’s skin, rejuvenating his body cell by cell. Minutes crept by while his thoughts collected in a neat little pile, and once they did, he sprang up into a sitting position.

“Wait… Dad, what happened to Merry?”

Butler put a hand on his shoulder, trying to gently force Drew back down. “Merry is perfectly fine. Don’t worry about them right now. You need to rest.”

“No,” Drew demanded, prying his father’s hand off. “Where are they?”

Butler crossed his arms and sighed. Another smile crept onto his face, unbidden - of course his son was raring and ready to go. No ailment kept him bedridden for more than five minutes, save unconsciousness or a heavy coma.

“They’re out in the gardens, with Artemis.”

That was all Drew needed. Energy crackled inside him, forming its own butterflies in tandem with the ones that took flight at the thought of Merry. He scraped off the covers and bolted for the door, Butler following after. 

His legs carried him down the hall, past Holly and Alpine, and he leapt down to the ground floor without touching a single stair step.

His heart thundered with more than physical exertion.

“Merry!!!”

The two fairies raced after him, giggling, so they could witness the reunion. Drew burst through the front doors, sending them wide, and he stood in the avenue with his shoulders straight back and his stance squared, afternoon shedding its orange and purple light onto the world. Butler was able to keep up this time, and so he was able to watch as his son’s face melted away into pure shock and awe.

At the bottom of the hill were two teenagers - Artemis, and another with a very slight frame and wavy pink hair. They were taking a stroll around the rosebushes, while Atyeurn and Zehava, Kortallen, Juliet, Root, Foaly, and the other LEP officers were all engaged in conversation. It was such a beautiful scene, he could hardly believe it was real.

Drew cupped shaking hands around his mouth, and shouted down to them.

“ _ MERRY!!! _ ”

Instantly they all whipped their heads up to the sound’s source. Merianth did the same, and they clapped a hand to their own mouth, knees knocking together. Drew laughed a breathless laugh, grinning.

Then he took off down the hill, so fast his legs could scarcely keep up. His body thudded against the ground with each step, feet bare, wearing naught but his shorts and his binders and a dark grey shirt. Drew’s heart threatened to leap right out of his mouth as Merry ran toward him, crying his name. He screamed theirs again, and they met in the middle, in a whirlwind of bodies and wings and tears. The others looked on as the two teens cried into each other’s shoulders, rocking back and forth, until they both collapsed onto the lawn in a heap. Laughing and sobbing at the same time, Drew cupped Merry’s face in his own.

He took a fleeting moment to take in their appearance, their scent, all physical and in front of him for the first time. Their features were round, elfin, but thin, managing to be almost skeletal around the wrists and elbows and still maintain an elegant quality. Pale freckles dusted across their translucent complexion like the footsteps of some dainty fairy creature. Their ears were pierced through with little pink roses.

Drew was bursting with things to say to them - all of the things he’d planned on telling Merry when they finally met in-person. But there was so much to say at once, too much, and so he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Hello, my friend,” he choked, barely able to see through the tears.

“Hello, my sunshine lad,” Merry replied with an equally tear-stained grin.

Drew laughed again, but it turned into a strangled noise. He buried his face in his hands, leaning into Merry while they ran their fingers through his silken hair.

It was minutes before they stood. More of an eternity, really, because they’d spent so much time apart and so much time replacing the hugs they’d neglected for so long. And there were all of Drew’s family and friends around him, smiling (or smoking, in Root’s case). Drew began to introduce them all, completely red-faced and babbling, looking like he’d just gotten married.

“Okay, Merry, this is my dad - and this is my other dad, and this is Artemis, and Holly, and Foaly, an-”

“Merry has already met everyone, Druvidian,” Artemis said.

“Oh…” Drew’s eyes went wide. He smiled emotionlessly at them all, past the glaring bright red of his ears. “ _ Wow _ , that’s awkward. Okay.”

“If you think this is awkward, just wait until the next time you log in to social media. You’re trending right now,” Merry told him.

“I am?”

“Sure are, my dude,” Foaly said, again evoking memes. “You’re all over the ‘net. Of course, it’s not just you. Butler, Kortallen, and Alpine are pretty high up there, too. I’ve got my programs running on thirteen different computers right now to get rid of as many videos as I can. I don’t think it’s going to work out very well…”

Suddenly they all stopped and looked at the ground. Like a sixth sense (or seventh, for the dragons), they felt the earth tremble beneath them. Then it was gone.

“Okay, that was weird,” Holly remarked. “You all felt that, right?”

“Yes, so it would seem,” Artemis said.

Drew looked to Butler. “You don’t think Knighthood planted some kind of bomb under the Manor, do you? Like a contingency plan?”

“I doubt it,” Butler told him dismissively, all-knowing, stifling a smile as he observed the grass at his son’s feet. “Watch your step.”

The draconic teen’s head flicked down to his toes, and in the next instant the ground there burst upward. A mole-like creature with tombstone-shaped teeth and a beard emerged, a blizzard of limbs and jaws that latched onto Drew’s legs. Drew shrieked, scrambling backward. He fell onto his rear and frantically kicked at the dwarf that pretended to knaw his feet off at the ankles.

He landed a blow to Mulch’s eye, finally, and the repulsive dwarf relinquished his grip.

Drew skittered back to a stand, red-in-the-face with a rabbit heart. His terror turned to fury when he saw who had attacked him, and that all of the others were trying (and mostly failing) to contain their laughter.

“Oh my god, you  _ asshole! _ ” he shouted at Mulch, who grinned.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Mulch giggled, holding a pinkie up to his lips. “I overheard y’all talking about how Knighthood was dead and gone, so I figured it was finally safe for me to leave my spy cave.”

“Safe?” Root asked, innocently reaching for his handcuffs.

“Well, I doubt you’d believe me, Julius, but Charla Maine interned me as her espionage agent. Implanted me with some kinda microchip-slash-microphone thing, and told me that if I tried to warn any of you, or talk to you, or leave the grounds, she’d kill me.”

“Oh, really?” Root raised an eyebrow. “Spying on private LEP operations and feeding information to human sources amounts to treason, isn’t that right, Short?”

Holly nodded, playing along. “Sure is, Commander. Treason.”

“But,” Mulch pointed out, poking a hairy finger into the air, “you said it yourself, this operation had no affiliation with the LEP, or with the Council or the People, for that matter.”

“Not the battle, no, but the rest of it, yes,” Root said. “This was an LEP operation right up until we went after Knighthood. Any information you passed along during that time was treason, and let me tell you, after the mass-arrest I pulled off yesterday, I am just itching for another to add onto the pile. And yours would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it, Diggums?”

Mulch chuckled, stepping back a few paces.

“Well, you have to catch me first, Julius. At your age, you might trip and break something.”

Root’s face blossomed red. He snuffed out the cigar on his suit, and charged.

“ _ Get over here and let me fall and break your stupid spine, you mutated swear-toad! _ ” he roared.

Mulch then proceeded to lead the Commander on a wild chase throughout the grounds, both of them bellowing insults at each other. Drew was quite prepared to launch himself into full dragonoid form and take off after the dwarf, but Merry giggled and tugged on his hand.

“Hold it right there, hedgehog boy,” they said. (A private joke about his bedhead.) “Don’t you have a promise to keep?”

Drew cocked his head, but then he remembered what he’d said back when they were trapped at Knighthood, about to be plugged into the energy pods:

“ _ If we get out of here, I’m going to baby-carry you to my house, and then we’re going to read the Orion Raven books together. All of them. I’m going to show you all of my artwork, and I’ll introduce you to my friends. _ ”

Merry could pick out the exact moment that Drew remembered - it was like something warm sparked in his eyes. Suddenly he grinned, and scooped Merry up into his arms, both of them in their semi-humanoid forms.

“And where are you two going?” Butler asked cheerfully, arms crossing.

“We’re gonna go read nerd books!” Drew declared as he raced back up the hill. “Party in my room for the rest of the night! Everybody’s invited!!!”


	17. The World After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, now we come to the exposition at the end. I still love how Colfer did that at the end of The Last Guardian. (Srsly, when I read the last chapter, that was the first time I ever cried reading a book.) Do love me a happy ending. Kortallen is a band nerd, confirmed. Holly gets to be a metalhead in front of the whole city. Butler and Kortallen get to talkin, and Zehava ships it hard (me too, girl, me too). And THEN Artymom and Artydad get back with the kiddos (hint: don’t touch Beckett, you don’t know where he’s been), and then it’s lecture time. Drew tells them both off for being kinda crappy parents (b/c it’s about time somebody set them straight).
> 
> Soundtrack 17: “Strangeness and Charm” by Florence and the Machine.

In the following months, close to a million video clips would be posted on the internet, featuring dragons of all colors and kinds being released from Knighthood facilities around the world. Most of these videos were of the Battle of Templar, as it would be called, in which tiny men with mechanical wings rode dragons and shot laser beams, a green woman shot white supremacist figurehead Edward Lancer dead, and men in armor did battle with a winged teenager. Foaly did his absolute best to erase these videos, but the truth was too far out. Humans already suspected that they were not alone.

There was a massive panic underground, during that time. Curfew was stricter than ever. Surface trips stopped entirely. Crime rates rose in conjunction with the stress levels, which in turn made Holly so busy that she couldn’t visit more than a two-minute video chat every day. But things calmed down when the People realized that the humans were not coming.

And there was a very good reason for it.

Footage and reports got out about what Knighthood was doing to the dragons, in gruesome detail. Some of the more brave reporters actually went in and freed the poor creatures themselves, filming the entire venture for their ten o'clock news special. Scarce few could question the overwhelming evidence that dragons existed, that they had existed for centuries, millennia, even. The legends were true.

Many government officials and world leaders held press conferences, stating plainly that they would welcome the existence of these fairy creatures, or whatever they were. Others boldly and openly accepted the fact that these were not new people, but old ones that predated their own existence.

The Council and the dragons of Stronghold Solace both agreed that they would not yet reveal their people. The humans had much more to learn and to change before that time would come. They would wait until they could be sure that every last Mud Man was an emphatic supporter of the ascension of fairies, or at least indifferent. The time seemed to grow closer each day. Soon.

The Council instated Alpine Frost as the honorary head of a new generation of Dragonologists, giving them their own facility across the road from LEP hq. In the following months, she would write and publish a seven-thousand page novel about her experiences at Knighthood, from the time of her capture up to the end of the Battle of Templar. The book, titled “The Strangest Life: an Autobiography,” would climb to the top of the adult bestseller list and remain there for several years. It also would serve as a new reminder to the People just how horrid the human race could be. But it also highlighted the best.

The Council also agreed to host a ceremony, finally, for the official reuniting of dragons with the rest of the People (which Wing Commander Vinyàya may or may not have had to earn by socking Darien Weatherbrook in the jaw). Councilman Weatherbrook made his curt speech with a cleverly-concealed welt on the side of his face. Then Commander Root, Captain Short, Alpine Frost, Kortallen, Zehava, Atyeurn, Artemis, Butler, and Drew were asked to recount the events of the Battle of Templar for public record.

And then afterward, by his own special request, Drew gave a dance performance in the middle of the square, which was dedicated to Merry, and done with the accompanying song “Strangeness and Charm” by the human band Florence and the Machine.

It was a performance he’d been honing ever since he first heard the song.

His dance style incorporated colorguard, fire, and flight into its routine. He started off as just himself, twirling around the dance floor that was laid out, and when the music began to pick up, he had Butler toss the flag in so he could catch it in midair. At each chorus, he would let his blue fire waltz down the length of the flagpole and ripple along the silk, controlling both with his hands. At the second chorus he became semi-humanoid, and resumed his dance up in the air. At the climax of the song, which gave him chills every time he listened to it, he transformed into a full dragonoid, and exhaled blue flame into the cavern of Haven. As things wound down, he could feel all of the eyes upon him (his parents’, especially), but he did not care. And then when the final note played, he stopped short with his wings and hands extended straight out at his sides, one leg popped in front of the other.

The citizens of Haven cheered for him, and Drew could barely hear them over his heartbeat and his heaving lungs. He was a symbol to them now, the mascot of the battle against Knighthood and of the dragons as a whole.

Drew’s eyes were drawn instinctively to Merry and his parents, them being the tallest of those assembled. Merry was practically in tears, Butler nodded and smiled, and Kortallen grinned appreciatively. Drew skipped over to them so the stagehands could clear the square for the next event.

“So, what did you think?” he asked with a beaming smile, the crowd positively vibrating with excitement.

“ **_Erendior,_ ** ” Kortallen praised, looking down at him. “We’re going to have to get you to perform with our band, Ati and Hava and I, when you visit Stronghold Solace.”

“Wait, you have a  _ band? _ ”

“Sure do, kiddo,” the  _ oberon _ grinned. “Anthem of Solace.”

Suddenly Drew gaped.

“Oh my god, no freaking way. I listen to that band all the time! I have every single song! I sang ‘Voidsong’ at my friend’s birthday party! And I always listen to ‘Sleep in the Archipelago’ when I’m depressed! And...oh my god, the words in the background are  **_drakzha_ ** ! That was you guys, the whole time?!”

“Yep. We post our music online. I’m on vocals, Atyeurn does guitar, and Zehava’s on drums. I can’t believe you never recognized my voice,” Kortallen confessed.

“Well, I do  _ now _ !” Drew laughed. “That is just… Wow. You’ve been singing to me for years, and neither of us ever knew it.”

“I guess that means we won’t have to teach you any of the songs, then.”

The next event of the ceremony was a performance by Holly’s favorite Fae-Metal band, Neutriad. The three girls (two sprites and an elf) jumped onstage, dressed in punk clothing, or whatever passed as such in modern Haven. The lead vocalist made a short speech, and then, to everyone’s joy, invited Captain Holly Short up to the stage to sing with them. In full regalia, Holly shared the mic with the lead vocalist, Eaven Albatross, while Drew and Merry and every single member of the LEP cheered for her.

Drew gripped his best friend’s hand the whole time like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Their fingers danced around each other playfully, even though they both stared at the stage like neither knew anything was going on down there. But they knew, of course. It was a comfortability they’d shared for months, and it was only stronger now that they could stand in each other’s company.

When the song was over, they wandered over to the edge of the crowd. Butler and Kortallen watched them go, wordlessly, at least until they were out of earshot.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Butler asked him while fairies jostled around their legs. “Knighthood is gone, your people are safe, and now Drew appears to have his sights set on an art college in Canada. Where will your path take you from here?”

Tension sparked in Kortallen’s muscles, but was gone as quickly as it came.

“I have to return to Solace. At least, for a little while. I need to visit Caionis’s sister, and hopefully talk things over with the high matriarchs. They’re not too pleased with me right now.”

“What for?”

Kortallen smiled wryly. “I wasn’t supposed to leave, after Atyeurn and Zehava were abducted. Everybody was strictly forbidden from going outside. But I did anyway, because I’d planned on getting my revenge.”

Butler raised an eyebrow.

“You were going to try to take down Knighthood all on your own?”

“No, I knew it was a suicide mission. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to face life without my closest friends, so I figured if I was going to end it all, I should do it by taking a chunk out of the organization that pushed me to it.”

Butler understood. “So, if Drew hadn’t sensed you that day, you would have taken your own life and exposed your whole species to the human race.”

Kortallen rubbed a spot on the back of his neck. 

“Yeah.”

They let the conversation drop, at least for a few minutes. They were an odd pair, being among the tallest sentient beings in the whole city. Many a fairy stopped to stare, not because they were intimidated by Butler (well, they were, but he was not an unusual sight in Haven anymore), but because of Kortallen, and the fact that they stood with their arms barely an inch apart.

“Are you still angry with me?” Butler asked.

The  **_oberon_ ** considered him heavily, though he pretended not to by staring into the opposite side of the square. He sighed.

“I want to be, but I know I shouldn’t. What you and Caionis did was the best option available, of the ones he had left. I wanted him to destroy himself, waste his energy, and possibly get us all killed. Once again, my instincts forced me to disregard all caution.”

“You do have some fire in you, Kortallen, I’ll give you that.”

“Well, I  _ am  _ a dragon,” the  **_oberon_ ** grinned.

Suddenly Drew bounded back over with Merry in tow. They heard him coming from many yards away, but only because he kept chanting “dad” over and over again.

“Dad, I just remembered something!” he said to Butler. “Since we’re already in Haven, do you think I could go to my consultation thing for hormone therapy?”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,  **_kiimuna_ ** ,” Kortallen told him. “Now that your abilities have kicked in, your body will start to transition on its own. Within the next month or so, your voice should start to get deeper.”

Drew had to take a step back. Merry’s shock rivalled his, and so they continued for him.

“You mean...we won’t have to do any kind of surgery...or anything?”

“Not a bit, Merianth. Your bodies will change multiple times over the course of your lives, depending on however your identity shifts. Mine certainly has. In fact, all of us were originally transgender, before we discovered that we were dragons,” Kortallen said.

“So, you mean, like...” Drew stammered, “ _ All _ dragons are trans?”

“Yep. Now, that doesn’t mean that all trans people are dragons, but yes, all dragons are trans, or some variation.”

Drew and Merry both clasped hands over their mouths, bouncing excitedly. Butler smiled at the pair of them - they were like the same teen, so nearly identical were their personas and attitudes. As Drew had stated once, it was probably the kindest miracle of his childhood that they ever met in the first place.

Merry clutched a fist to their chest, fake-teary-eyed. “That’s beautiful…”

“Well, that takes care of half of my to-do list,” Drew remarked. And then, “Oh my god, Merry, I have to show you some of the stuff Foaly’s invented! Dude, you’re not gonna believe it, this one time...” and he trailed off as they moved out of earshot.

Kortallen followed after them. His presence was quickly replaced by none other than Zehava, whose sturdy stance and crossed arms matched Butler’s.

“You two seem to be getting on well,” she said.

“Mmm,” Butler mumbled, still watching him go.

“You know, Kortallen’s always been the loner type,” Zehava went on. “Ever since I can remember, he’s been content to be on his own. He never really found anyone to be with.”

Butler made no indication of a reply, so she bumped into him with her hips. He looked up at her with mild surprise, still a little unsteady about how easily the dragons were able to push him around. He was certainly out of his depth, when it came to them.

“Perhaps you could help out with that,” Zehava smiled. 

And then she left him to stand on his own in the sea of fairies, contemplating just how transparent his relationship with Kortallen was, and what the nature of said relationship could be.

 

In the end of all things and stories, there is the quiet. We come to that now, now that the evil has been dealt with and life can slow down to an enjoyable pace, at least for a little while. The friends and family of Drew took advantage of the quiet.

They all sat around the table at Fowl Manor, which had to be elongated to fit everyone. Butler, Artemis, Drew, Foaly, Juliet, Holly, Atyeurn, Zehava, Kortallen, Alpine, and Merry. Root was not in attendance, as he was now having to double-up his duties as both LEP Commander and ambassador to the dragons. (And, he didn’t really want to set foot in the Fowl household, even still.) Kortallen was, for the first time, comfortable enough with those present to assume full humanoid form (because apparently maintaining semi-humanoid form expended more energy and effort than either extreme). He looked very plain, with just his dark red hair and sleeveless coat. Everyone was brought up to speed with Drew’s story, and exchanged some of their own. Zehava and Atyeurn enticed him with anecdotes about their lives at Stronghold Solace. It was only a matter of time before the high matriarch invited him to it, or so it was rumored. 

“Merianth?” Artemis said pleasantly. “Where will you be going to live now?”

Merry chewed their lip, as uncomfortable with being the center of attention as Drew. “I really don’t know. I can’t go back to my house, because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever be able to explain to my...parents...what happened. And you said my real mom was killed by Knighthood, so…”

“You could stay here,” Butler offered. “At least, until you found something more permanent.”

Merry shrugged. Atyeurn and Zehava exchanged a look.

“Zandeavor was one of our friends,” Atyeurn said. “We’d be honored to look after you in her stead. You could live with us at Solace. There are a few other  **_kiimunara_ ** around your age that you’d probably get along with fairly well.”

Merry considered it. Drew held onto their hand a little tighter, knowing that they would be separated by an even greater distance than before, but he was also very conscious of the fact that it wasn’t his choice to make. He had to let that be, when Merry looked to him for ideas.

“Whatever you want to do, man,” he told them. “At least now I can come visit you whenever I like.”

“What do you mean?”

Drew blinked. “We’ve both got wings, dude.”

“Oh  _ yeah _ , that’s right,” Merry laughed. “I completely forgot about that.” They made a face for a bit, mind preoccupied with the tasks of decision-making, and then said to Atyeurn and Zehava, “I think I’ll have to take you up on that. As long as I can have cats - that’s my only stipulation. That, and wifi.”

Artemis would have rolled his eyes, but he knew he’d be just as helpless without the internet. Within a week of being unable to check his stocks, he would probably be reduced to a useless pile of Armani and snarky moods.

From there, the conversation only evolved into other, more intriguing topics that would make sense nowhere but in the Manor, with these specific people. It was civil, at least until Holly and Kortallen got into an argument about who could speak faster in  **_drakzha_ ** , which then went a step further when Holly suggested that the fairies’ gift of tongues made her more proficient than native speakers, and then turned into a linguistic war that sounded mostly like babbling, even to the other dragons present. The aura of conflict was a little too jarring to Drew, and he stood to excuse himself.

“Everything alright, Drew?” Butler asked, noticing him.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Dad. Just need some air. It’s getting a little hot in here, with two binders and a hoodie.”

Butler nodded in agreement. Drew quietly slipped out of the dining room, and let his legs carry him into the lounge across the foyer. It was many degrees cooler here, even though the heat hadn’t been the reason for his leave, and he had to stand back for a moment to just assess what a wonderful thing his life had become.

He’d been attacked by goblins, rescued by a giant who turned out to be his father,  and was almost shot out of the sky in the middle of the ocean. He threw up on a plane for the first time. He met Holly. He met Artemis. He’d gotten to live in a veritable castle, danced in its greenhouse and garden, ate food he would describe openly as “the bomb,” and was introduced to the lives of some extraordinary people. He’d shot bows with his father and his famous-wrestler aunt. He had all of his belongings recovered from certain doom. He’d transformed into a dragon in the middle of a fairy metropolis, cussed-out its council in another language, and met his other father. He’d been drugged and abducted for the first time, which was terrifying but also an interesting experience, and he’d faced down the leader of a fascist organization with nothing but his wings and his rage behind him. He’d met and rescued his best friend. He’d made many more friends. And now here they all were, sitting around the table at his new home, arguing in a language that was hardwired into his DNA from birth.

Drew sighed. He smiled.

“This is still so surreal,” he said to the antiques. “I never thought I’d have done any of that, ever. I still can’t believe it’s happening.”

Footsteps padded along behind him. Drew whirled, and upon doing so, saw a little boy with unruly blond hair and brown spots on his face. At first, he thought they were birthmarks (they may as well have been, considering how frequently they made an appearance on this particular child’s face). But when the boy came closer, he saw the brown was actually something smeared all over his cheeks...and his hands.

“Want juice!” Beckett declared, his stubby legs carrying him over to Drew.

The draconic teen widened his eyes and backpedaled, wary of the boy’s outstretched and soiled hands. He had to maneuver around several chairs and glass cases before his mind had time to wonder who this child was and what he was doing here. 

But then he looked up, and the doorway was shadowed by a beautiful woman with the features of a goddess, which were pulled into a taut scowl. She held a suitcase at her side, which Beckett ran to, and she narrowed her eyes at Drew.

“Who are you?” the woman demanded, “What are you doing in my house?!”

Drew swallowed, gaping. Suddenly he didn’t know how to speak. He realized that this was Artemis’s mother, finally back from Finland. So the boy was one of Artemis’s brothers. Drew could find nothing to say that could possibly explain all of the intricate and long-winded reasons for his presence, so he decided to save himself from the woman’s wrath by summoning someone she knew.

“Uh...Dad?” he called, not looking away. A cry for help.

A moment later, Butler emerged into the room. “Drew?”

Then he saw Angeline. Immediately his attitude changed - he stood up straight, hands behind his back. One moment he was struck with fatherly concern, and the next, he was a soldier. 

“Madame Fowl,” he acknowledged stiffly.

Angeline said nothing. Instead she drove right on through to the next room, nearly shrieking at the sight of all of the fairies and dragons at her table. Her gaze froze the lot of them, icing over the conversation with silence, and she looked from one person to the next until finally her eyes settled on her son.

“I. Knew it.”

“Mother,” Artemis tried, “I assure you, I can explai-”

“Oh, you certainly will, Artemis Fowl the Second. You’re going to explain everything that happened while we were away, and you’re going to do it as soon as your father is finished fussing over his vehicle, which popped a tire on what appears to be a piece of shrapnel on the avenue!”

Behind her, Butler clenched his jaw, and Drew clapped a hand over his mouth. Juliet silently cursed herself for not cleaning up all of the evidence of Knighthood’s assault. And the rest of them simply sat there in shock, while Artemis’s translucent skin took on a few more shades of red.

 

“This always happens when we leave, Arty!” Angeline ranted, after the tale was given at full length. Only Butler, Drew, Kortallen, Artemis, and Holly were present. “Every time, like clockwork, my boy has to go on some grand adventure with fairies that usually includes the end of the world. What did I say? As soon as we left, I had a feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong. I told you, Timmy, didn’t I?”

“Mother, this was hardly-”

“ _ It got you killed, last time! _ ” she shouted, tears forming in her eyes. “I had to explain to your father about the LEP, and fairies, and Atlantis Complex, and Spelltrophy, and all of it without a word from you to confirm that I was not a lunatic! I told you that there would be no more of these...escapades! Not until you were grown!”

Artemis bit his tongue. Artemis Senior cast his eyes to the table, a little ashamed of having not believed his wife about his son’s secret life.

“This was not Artemis’s fault,” Butler told her evenly. “He did not initiate anything that Knighthood had not already begun.”

“No,” Angeline admitted, redirecting her fury, “it was  _ your  _ fault. This was about  _ your son _ , whom you brought to my house when you knew it would put  _ my son _ in danger! What the hell are we paying you for?!”

Drew shrank down at the sound of her voice, genuinely scared.

Holly spoke up, “Mrs. Fowl, the blame for this situation can’t be placed on any one person. And what Artemis and Butler did helped to save an entire species from destruction. One might think you’d be overjoyed by that, considering that most of your recent efforts have been environmentally-concerned.”

Angeline Fowl regarded the elf captain coolly, knowing that she was right to some degree.

“Hmmph. And so, this species you saved was the dragons, or so you claim?”

“Yes,” Kortallen told her sharply. “And I happen to be one of those dragons, as you’ve been told multiple times.”

She looked at Drew. “And you’re supposed to be a dragon too, are you?”

He swallowed. “I...yeah.”

“Prove it,” Angeline said coldly.

Drew and Kortallen looked at each other, both deciding in the same instant to show Artemis’s mother the truth. They stood at once, and with a flourish, they became semi-humanoid and extended their patterned wings until they brushed the walls. Drew’s glowing eyes stared challengingly into those of Artemis’s parents, who stared back with equal parts awe and affront.

“Well,” Artemis Senior said with a laugh, “that’s pretty difficult evidence to ignore.”

Drew sat back down. Artemis Senior kept staring at him, so he locked their irises together until the man looked away. He didn’t like being ogled like some show animal.

“I have another question,” Angeline vocalized, at Butler. “How exactly did you manage to slip away from your duties to my infant son in order to... _ create _ yours?”

Kortallen politely explained to her, in simple, clean terms.

“Oh.” 

And that was all she had to say in response. Her aura eased up a little bit, but she was still quite hostile toward those sitting opposite her. They all looked like guilty children, being scolded by their flustered and tired parents.

“Regardless of all of this, Arty, I am forbidding you from any further ventures. You will not be going to Haven, or to Atlantis, or to this dragon stronghold in China. As your mother, I am placing you under house arrest until school resumes.”

“Mother!” Artemis protested. But he was helpless.

“No, Arty. I will not be swayed from this.”

Drew felt a fury of his own bubbling up. This was completely unjust. The indignity and senselessness of it all was something he’d endured for years, at the hands of his adopted parents, and there was no way in  _ hell  _ he was about to let Artemis be subjected to the same.

“What makes you think you can just swoop in here and tell Artemis what he can and can’t do?” Drew challenged. “My dad has been more like a parent to him than either of you ever have, or so I’m told.”

Butler froze up like steel.

“Drew, please, don’t.”

Angeline attacked him with a look that threatened to set him on fire. “How... _ dare you! _ As a member of the Butler family, you should-”

“I’m not your employee,” Drew told her bluntly, forceful but calm. “And I’m speaking to you as a friend of your son. You need to understand just how important that is, because he doesn’t have very many of those.”

Angeline stopped. “My son does not have friends.”

Drew tossed a hand into the air. “And that, right there, is my case at point. You don’t hardly know the first thing about him. Of course he has friends - he has Holly, and Foaly, and me, and all of the people he’s spent the past few years of his life with, and he never would have met any of them if he hadn’t been allowed his freedom. He found them when he acted out of desperation to rescue his father, which, if I may point out, you were not very concerned with at all, in the beginning. He had a very clear plan to finance and execute a rescue mission to the Arctic, which, if I also might add, he succeeded in doing. But you kept telling him that it couldn’t be done, that he should go play like a good little boy, and you spent the money he was trying to save - on private zoos.”

Butler knew his son was stepping over a very dark line. But he did not try to stop him, because these were things that he’d wanted to express for a very long time.

“Your child is a  _ genius _ ,” Drew continued. “He makes grown adults with PhD’s look like toddlers, and yet you still force him to go to school - a place where he’s ridiculed and bullied every single day. You force him to wear clothes that he will never be comfortable with, because you get to feel like ‘normal’ parents when he does. You stuff him into a boarding school or at home whenever you feel like, leaving him alone for weeks or months at a time, and that’s how he’s had to live. Virtually alone. You have no idea how fast he’s had to grow up because of you. And now that he has found these friends, and saved the world  _ multiple  _ times, all you want to do is tell him to sit down and be a good boy. But how can you claim that right? What is it with rich people and treating their children like  _ assets _ ?”

He decided to stop there, because he’d run out of steam, and both of Artemis’s parents looked fit to murder him. The tension in the room dialled up many, many notches, until he thought the house was going to burst.

Artemis found himself, while greatly embarrassed, discovering a new respect for Drew. He was almost uncomfortable with it, until he realized what this outburst was - Artemis had defended him in front of the fairy Council, and how he was returning the favor.

“He’s right, Angeline,” Artemis Senior said with a heavy sigh. “He’s absolutely right, much as my pride wants me to deny it.”

She knew it, too. The matriarch of the Fowl family sat back in her chair, looking Butler’s son up and down multiple times. “How is it that a boy of seventeen has managed to properly lecture me about my own child?” Angeline wondered out loud.

Drew shrugged.

“Like I said. I’m Artemis’s friend. And since you thought he didn’t have any of those, maybe that’s just more proof that you haven’t spent nearly enough time with him to understand him.”

Angeline harrumphed, holding up a manicured nail to her lip. “What did you say your name was, again?”

Drew smiled, knowing that he’d finally managed to do some good for his new friend. And he didn’t even need his draconic powers to do it.

“Druvidian. Druvidian Pandalayn-Butler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, thank you to everyone who read my work! A million cookies to each! This fic was such a healing experience for me, and it really boosted my self-confidence. Also a billion hugs and kisses for my Mary. My Merry. My Merianth. My friend. I love you, and thank you for experiencing this with me.
> 
>  
> 
> ~Fin


End file.
